Land of Confusion
by Vlad Taltos
Summary: Zoiks is a cyborg created around the same time Project Purity was starting up. After many years of scientific research raiders attack and her world is destroyed. On her own, she meets Cornelu, the yet-unknown LW. Both aimless, a group of familiar refugees show up at their door and events sweep them away. Can they survive the DC Wasteland? Original plot interwoven with game quests.
1. 1: Ch 1: Points of Authority

Part 1: Zoiks

Chapter 1: "Points of Authority" by Linkin Park

Five years before a certain doctor and his newborn son took up residence in Vault 101, a man named Dave was interrupted from a passionate "state meeting" in his office with the younger of his two wives by a knock on the door.

The door started to open and Dave heard his daughter's voice. "Daddy? Somebody is at the g-"

"DONT COME IN!" he yelled, pushing his second wife down from the compromising pose she was in to the floor behind the desk. Poking his head up after a few seconds, the tyrannical leader found the door shut tight again. He started mumbling about how no one ever listened, throwing on clothes as he did. His wife made a move to garb herself as well, but he whispered harshly, "I'm not done yet, you get back the way you were. Don't even stop, I'll be back in moments."

Fully dressed, Dave slid out of the room, trying to block the exiting display in the room from anyone who might be outside the door. He found his youngest daughter Flower a few feet away looking scared. He was angry for being interrupted and didn't care. "How many times do I have to tell you, never go into my office or my room if the door is shut!" Tears started to well up in her eyes. "Now, what did you want?"

Sniffing, Flower said, "Bob sent me to get you, Daddy. There's people at the gate."

Unholstering the chinese assault rifle from his shoulders, he went to the gate of the settlement. Bob, his eldest son, was already there talking to the strangers. There were only three people, but they had four robots and a brahmin with them. "What is it you want with the Republic of Dave?"

A woman standing at the front of the group in a dirty and worn white lab coat spoke up. "We wanted to trade, and maybe a place to rest. We have been traveling for a long time and raiders have been wearing us down the whole way."

"So then you seek asylum in the Republic of Dave?" He ignored the look of bewilderment on the woman's face. Newcomers were always astounded by the Republic, she was probably trying to wrap her head around the fact that there was a functional governing body in the wastes.

"Okay... Well, look Dave, we just need some water. We're willing-"

"I am President Dave, President of the Republic of Dave!" he interrupted angrily. "You will address me as 'Mr. President' or I will have you executed!"

* * *

Dr. Ivanovitch almost shot the delusional, inbred hillbilly right then and there. After traveling for a week, at a crawl nonetheless because one of the robots had been damaged and could not keep up, and with raiders and wildlife trying their best to erase the scientific expedition off the face of the earth, she was not in the mood to be threatened by an alpha male pseudo-leader that was so illiterate he probably could not even spell the word 'ignorant.' But she saw the women and children behind him and kept her cool, saying, "I'm sorry, Mr. President. I was just saying that all we need is water, and we are willing to trade for it."

"Alright, come in, but stay near the gate. Shawna, go fetch a crate of water." The team of scientists entered and Dave immediately turned back to them. "So, what do you have that you think the citizens of the Republic of Dave might want or need?"

"We have several extra guns and some frag grenades that we picked up from the raiders. I think four bottles per gun and one per grenade would be a fair trade. There are also a few pieces of tech that we might be able to part with, but you will have to throw in caps for those. We lugged them all the way from Rivet City, we're not going to let them go cheep." The woman named Shawna returned and the Doctor slyly asked, "So there _is_ a water source in town?"

As expected, the simple girl didn't know better and easily fell for the trick. Pointing east, she said, "No, the well we use is just over-"

"Silence!" Dave exclaimed. "You're giving away state secrets!" The girl recoiled from her 'President's' anger. Ivanovitch saw it and her blood boiled, not because the man was angry at the girl, to be reasonable she had just given a major secret away, but because of the way the girl recoiled. The Doctor had seen similar motions before; head dipping and being retracted as far as the neck would allow, hands rising defensively, like she might need to word off a blow, feet backpedaling as if of their own accord. This girl had either been hit before or had witnessed enough bouts of insane rage that she took precautions in case things were thrown.

After one last seething glance at Shawna, Dave resumed the conversation. "I'm not sure if that will be enough, water is incredibly hard to come by after all. I think one of your robots would make a much better bargain. To make it fair, I'll even give you the choice of which. Now take the water, all of it, and hand over a robot."

"What? That's not even close to being a fair deal!"

Dave was glowing now, apparently he took pleasure in causing the distress of others. "You don't have a choice. The full might of the Army of Dave will come down on you if you try and refuse! Now submit, before I am forced to take drastic measures."

An older woman stepped up and said quietly, "Mr. President, like I've said before, it's not the best idea to threaten when trading. We can just give-"

Ignoring her, Dave asked, "What will it be, foreigner? Choose quickly!"

Seeing there were sane people around that could take over and lead the settlement, and being fed up with the pompous, arrogant shit in front of her, the Doctor made a quick decision. She raised her laser rifle at the man's face. A line of red energy leapt forward at the speed of light and created a smoldering hole in the asshole's forehead. The other man, Bob, raised his gun in retaliation and was promptly cut down by the gatling laser on the sentrybot next to Ivanovitch. To hold the bots in check and keep them from slaughtering everyone, she yelled, "Override three-K-F-eight-L! Halt attack program!" The growing hum from the robots' attached weapons fell into silence.

Everyone in town fled once the fighting started, so the team left quickly. They did not take the water because after the girl's slip they knew where to find some and the former 'Republic of Dave' would need it more than them.

After getting some water from the working pre-war well east of the settlement, Dr. Ivanovitch retraced their route for about an hour. This lead them back to a medium sized stone building set along what had once been a major power line with the words 'MDPL-16 Power Station' painted in large letters on its side. It was maybe twenty by forty feet with a fenced in area nearby protecting an outdoor power converter of some kind. There was no power flowing through the lines, as was expected, but she knew from experience that stations such as these often had generators to keep important hardware running in case of an outage. Everyone had already agreed that it would be a great place to set up a lab, but the first time they passed by they had reluctantly continued on in search of water. Assured now that there was a water source nearby, it was perfect.

A week was spent unloading the robots and brahmin and setting all the equipment up, setting the robots' patrols, making the building livable and getting ready for the reason they had set off on the crazy adventure. Ivanovitch had always been partial to robotics of all kinds, but for a long time had been unable to augment the human body with mechanical part. She wanted to make a cyborg.

The goal was out of reach until she had stumbled across a pre-war research lab in the ruins of D.C. which containted a detailed and uncorrupted account of the development of a microorganism that formed incredibly strong bonds with surrounding living tissue, including itself. The substance formed by a large culture of the microbe started with normal properties, but in the presence of nitrogen gas it hardened and came close to mimicking the attributes of steel. By itself, that made it valuable, but the amazing properties did not stop there. It could be used seamlessly alongside any living organic matter. Somehow, the pre-war scientists developing it had reversed the process used by viruses of impregnating other living cells with DNA for reproduction. This microorganism actually _stole _DNA. The cells that bordered the living tissue invaded their neighbors and took their DNA. The layer of cells with commandeered DNA then protected the rest of the culture from antibodies the host might send out. The outer layer essentially became working, native cells of the host body, but retained the small bit of DNA that coded for the ribosomes that created the protein responsible for the high strength of the bonds. And because nitrogen was so abundant, even inside almost every living thing, the proteins had no problem sealing the bonds.

The possible applications of this technology went far beyond the antiquated ability to replace bones and joints with rods and hinges. The way it was intended the microb and the substance formed by it could biologically integrate itself with the damaged area and heal normally. When Dr. Ivanovitch discovered it she had seen even more possibilities. Mechanical parts in people were limited by how much they irritated nearby tissue and organs. An implanted device surrounded by BMTS would heal into place without affecting anything around it.

Three weeks after committing an act of terrorism on the pseudo-Republic's 'president', the scientists had the lab up and running enough to start experimenting. They captured several mole rats, which were large, mutated rodents that lacked hair, and put them in the fenced area just outside the lab. The first test was to see if the BMTS samples that had been collected actually did anything like what the documents said they would. One rodent was injected with a small amount of the microorganism along a bone in it's foreleg. An hour later, the scientists cut open the leg to look at the bone.

It worked.

* * *

Two years and dozens of dead molerats later, the animal tests were finished. Dr. Ivanovitch and the two other scientists, Jack and Genevieve, now had a clear understanding of BMTS's capabilities. The Doctor also had a better idea of the most efficient way to insert the microb and had planned out what mechanical and electronic parts they would implant into the cyborg's body. It seemed the younger you started, the more integrated the BMTS would be once the subject reached adulthood. A thin layer around the growing bones would harden like they were supposed to, steal the DNA and continue growing normally from there. Because each new cell retained the BMTS's proteins they were also as strong as steel, forming a metallic coating around the original bone. Ivanovitch also planned on adding a memory device, named a Neurally Integrated Personal Computer, or NIPC, to the back of the cyborg's head and thin hydraulic muscles to replace key strain areas such as the legs and back.

The last two ideas required nerve-to-wire transfers, something not totally unheard of but it was still something extremely difficult. For the better part of the four experimentation years Ivanovitch spent the time between tests honing her skills at the art. By the time everything else was finished, she was confident she could make a connection between human nerves and wires.

The next problem was simple, they needed a child. It had been established early on that the molerat injections were more efficient when performed on young rodents, now the cyborg would face the best chance if it received the same treatment. But where were they going to get a child to experiment on? It was unanimous that they should not just go out and kidnap some kid and they did not want to try fertilizing an egg in a petri dish, everyone agreed there was literally no fun in that, so they decided the best option would be to make one normally. Then they would be morally clean because they, as the parents, chose the life of a cyborg for the child.

Both Dr. Ivanovitch and Genevieve volunteered to be the mother. After some discussion they decided they would both try and whoever conceived first would be the one to personally raise the cyborg. There was too much work, with the NIPC to be programmed and large amounts of BMTS to be grown, for either woman to be pregnant for nine months so an artificial womb was created for the infant to grown in once conceived.

The Rivet City lab had possessed a small collection of pre-war books prized by the scientists there and Ivanovitch, Jack and Genevieve had all read the open-minded philosophies of Robert Heinlein's 1961 _A Stranger in a Strange Land_, so the three weeks of rather promiscuous behavior that followed were taken fairly well. No one minded the lack of monogamy. In fact there was a certain primal satisfaction to the regular and uninhibited... actions... that everyone enjoyed, and it was over far to soon. Dr. Ivanovitch became pregnant and the unborn child was removed and placed into the artificial womb. The crazy situation was over and everyone was back to work within a month and a half.

* * *

Three years went by without any real progress. What the scientists hadn't expected was the wait for the child, whom the Doctor and Jack named Zoiks, to grow strong enough to handle any sort of bodily interference, let alone major surgery.

The little girl led to certain problems as well. The lab had always been a little cramped, with one room containing all the equipment, the sleeping area, the food storage and everything else the group needed. When Zoiks arrived, the space needed for and the noise produced by her drove Genevieve and Jack to the point where they decided to clean the unused molerat pen, wall it up with sheets of scrap metal and move out. Ivanovitch was saddled with caring for her, which she greatly resented Jack, the father, for. At first Zoiks was a major hassle and slowed her work down to a crawl. After six months of frustration she didn't mind as much because the science work petered out anyway and the waiting began. She viewed the full time job as a good way to pass the time, but although it led to some unexpected joys of motherhood she mostly viewed it as a waste of her talents.

During all of this, because of her inexperience in raising a child and the tension everyone was in, Ivanovitch neglected to talk regularly to Zoiks. It just was not something she thought of, it never crossed her mind, and it was something that would come back to haunt her for a long time. It was a trying time for everyone.

Around Zoiks's third birthday, about the same time, give or take a few months, as Project Purity was falling to pieces and James was taking refuge in an underground vualt, the day came when Ivanovitch deemed the child ready for her first operations. The extensive testing paid off, everything went as the Doctor had planned. For years, Zoiks grew normally and healthily while receiving all of the treatments, injections and surgeries needed to make her a cyborg.

After the NIPC installation into the back of Zoiks's head at three and a half, everyone noticed that she became more alert almost overnight. She looked around now, but it was with a knowing look instead of the bewildered and blank look of someone who does not understand. It was solid evidence that the program for understanding and learning in the NIPC was working.

All the surgeries were over and done with by the time Zoiks was five. By then Ivanovitch had written a few programs on the computer to teach her basic math, science and history, but mainly she studied the affects of the enhancements on her body and made sure the additions weren't rejected. Everything seemed fine, the scores she received on the programed tests were good, the only thing Ivanovitch started to worry about was her speech.

Zoiks babbled random sounds from the age of two, and Ivanovitch saw the progress so she assumed everything was fine. She didn't notice the slow pace of development from there, she did not have anything to compare Zoiks too. At four and a half there were disjointed, though clear, words like "mama," "Jack," "lab" and "baby." Her first understandable two-word statement, "Jack gone," was around five and a half, after her surgeries and augmentations. This is when it struck the Doctor that something might be wrong. Weren't children more developed by then? Only two-word statements by five and a half?

She brought this up with the others. Because of Zoiks's developing typing skills, she obviously did not have a problem communicating, just verbal words. They saw the flaw as some sort of disability that was unavoidable, noted it in the notes as a possible reaction from the many alterations that had been made to her and decided that the best thing to do was work around the speech area. From then on whenever any of them talked to Zoiks, it was always through typing. This removed her from almost all speech and kept her from developing her talking ability past where it already was.

Ironically, it was the ignorance of educated and even smart people that led to a perfectly healthy child's inability to talk well.

* * *

AN/ An extended summary for this story can be found on my profile. For those who want to read this story, don't bother. For those with questions about my definition of 'canon' or the stipulations I have put on this story's rating, please refer to it.

Also, as of 5/25/12 I am attempting to update every Friday.

As of 7/10/12 I have failed. I went more than a moth consistently though. Impressive.


	2. 1: Ch 2: Land of Confusion

Chapter 2: "Land Of Confusion" by Disturbed

Twenty two years after being created, Zoiks was sitting at her terminal going through Dr. Ivanovitch's notes on BMTS. She was getting older, the others regarded her as an adult and she was wondering what she was going to do. She understood that some people had vocations. The Doctor, Jack and Genevieve were scientists, they devoted their time to learning about anything that interested them and pursued any projects that they thought were intriguing. Ivanovitch had explained that some scientists did really important things, things that bettered all of mankind, but that the opportunities to do things like that did not come around often. Zoiks was reviewing the thoughts the Doctor had once had on her own personal project to see what had driven her, hoping that understanding another person's interest would spark an epiphany of her own.

She was still pondering at the computer when raiders attacked. It was uncommon for the psychotic humans to test the Power Station's defenses, deathclaws and radscorpions were the more common threat, but every now and then a group the crazed humans would make an attempt. Zoiks knew what to do, whenever anything attacked everyone was supposed to just wait it out in the lab or the shack while the robots eliminated the threat. The thick stone walls were practically impenetrable.

But then they heard one of the sentry bots call out a warning.

"Miniaturized nuclear weapon detected, non-combatants advised to retreat to safe area." At that Dr. Ivanovitch's eyes widened. She grabbed Zoiks's hand and ran out of the door.

"Come on! Run!" She yelled, pulling Zoiks as she staggered along behind her. They ran around the stone corner behind the lab, the doctor trying to keep the lab's walls between them and the bullets that might soon be chasing them. Then they heard a gatling laser and two miniguns opening fire, along with the sound of multiple discharging missile launchers. Jack and Genevieve were following, but as she and Ivanovitch were just mounting the crest of a hill there was a loud explosion and the sound of their loud, running footsteps stopped. Little pieces of what Zoiks assumed was debris started falling around them. Then they were behind the hill, away from whatever was happening to the only place Zoiks had ever known.

Dr. Ivanovitch turned to her with a scared look in her eyes. She said, "Zoiks, I want you to stay here and if I do not come back then I want you to run, okay?" Zoiks nodded her agreement and the Doctor ran off up the hill again, pulling her laser rifle from her back as she went. There was more fighting and a few explosions. The noise started to subside and she wondered if the battle was over, but then a huge explosion rocked the ground beneath her feet. A bright flash of gamma radiation lit up the area behind the hill with a ghostly light and she realized that someone had used the nuclear device the sentry bot had warned them about. There was no fighting after that.

When no one came to bring her back to the lab Zoiks looked over the hill. She saw no living things. She waited a few more minutes in case there were any more raiders around. When she was sure there was no hostile people around she went to see if she could salvage anything, stumbling about as she went and trying not to think about the red blobs lying on the ground around her.

The Power Station was half gone; the mininuke had apparently hit it. The remains of what she thought were several raiders were scattered all over the hillside to the west of the Station that they had been attacking from. Two of the sentry bots where still intact though not functioning, not even the missile launcher the Raiders had shot them with could fully destroy them. The third still had a working torso and it was moving on the ground, legs gone. There would be no fixing him. As she trotted through the destruction she saw the last robot, a mister handy that had helped in the lab, now a pile of melted scrap inside what had been the stone wall of the Station. A charred human body, probably Dr. Ivanovitch, was lying in the remains of the lab. A wave of guilt crashed through her. Knowing the Doctor, she had been trying to save the files about _Zoiks_ when the nuke went off. Vomit welled up inside her and she ran off to be sick.

Overwhelmed, she retreated back over to the east, to the last place she had seen Dr. Ivanovitch alive. There she sat for an hour or so, crying, shivering and trying to comprehend what had happened. She thought about the hours that the Doctor had spent teaching her things on the computer. Then she remembered Jack, her biological father that had always saved Fancy Lad Snack Cakes for her whenever he found some on the supply trips. She and Genevieve had gone to get water from the pre-war well every few days since Zoiks was young. Now the realization that all of that was gone washed over her and she cried harder.

The Doctor had frequently told her about the other people in the wasteland. Most were just trying to get by, struggling against the hostile habitat, and she realized that with nowhere to go she was going to have to be one of those people. She could not stay, the station was completely destroyed and offered no protection. She would have to find as much stuff in the ruins as she could and go somewhere. She was aimless, but she decided that a random direction was better than sitting around, waiting to be eaten by a deathclaw.

Getting up and mentally shaking herself, Zoiks turned back up the hill towards the Station. Ignoring the bodies so that she could focus, she went through the lab and grabbed the small bag of memory chips the Doctor had saved stolen information from Project Purity on. There was nothing else so she continued to Jack and Genevieve's shack, which was where the food was stored. Unfortunately, one wall and about half of the food had been blown up by stray a missile. She took what was left and put it in makeshift cloth bags to carry.

As she was leaving, Zoiks noticed a glint of steel over where the raiders had been and decided to investigate. It turned out to be one of several guns lying around amidst the chunks of bloody raider bits. The sight of the mutilated crazies didn't bother her overmuch, she had no emotional attachments to them and barely even saw them as human. Blood and meat were not a problem, as she was a doctor's daughter and had been slaughtering and cleaning molerats with Jack since her early teens. She searched around, finding a few clips of 5.56mm ammo on the body. A minute later she found an assault rifle that would shoot that type of ammo nearby. It was in horrible condition, but it was better than nothing so she loaded it and slung it across her back like she had seen Jack do. There was also a grim, deadly looking shotgun near the deceased raiders with a couple dozen shells. She thought it would come in handy so she tossed it on her back with the assault rifle.

The guns were pretty heavy and the food from the Station was rather bulky, but she definitely was not going to leave any of it behind. After giving the lab one last look, she awkwardly set off to the southwest burdened with supplies.

Zoiks soon came to a broken highway, with sections of its raised roadbed having collapsed long ago. Along the east side, which was her left as she turned directly south to follow the road, was a stretch of rubble that had once been buildings clustered around the off ramps of the highway. She kept alert, her mechanical eyes able to pick out details easily, and after a few hours of walking she spotted a medium-sized, rusted metal wagon in the debris along the road. She went over to inspect it and found that the thin discs it rolled on still worked correctly, so she decided she would use it to carry her extra stuff. Into it she placed the two bags of food, the extra ammo and the shotgun, figuring she would not need two guns.

After the discovery she kept moving, not feeling safe at all, but did not go far before her NIPC alerted her of movement. There was a radscorpion that was not quite facing her and was still oblivious to her presence. She hit the ground immediately and waited, hoping it had not seen her at the last second. When the giant bug didn't attack, she poked her head up and saw that it was still ignorant of her presence. Quietly, she made her way around it and continued on.

When she came to an intersection between a small road that ran along the side of highway and another road she saw a refrigerator just out from under the shadow the overpass cast. It looked very out of place in the middle of the road and she was wondering what it was doing there. She once again checked her senses and sensors for anything amiss, but found no immediate threats so she turned on to the other road, pulling her wagon along behind her. She opened it and found ten bottles of purified water just sitting there.

Suddenly Zoiks heard something big coming over the hill behind her. She turned and saw a _huge _radscorpion, still about twenty feet away but coming up fast. Moving away from her wagon a few feet so it was not tipped over in the upcoming fight, she whipped the assault rifle off of her back and emptied the clip within seconds, the mechanical muscles in her arms overpowering the recoil easily. She dropped the gun, she did not have time to reload, and crouched. It was just about on her now and as it lunged with its right claw she dived over it towards the wagon. She rolled once to right herself and, as she ran past the wagon, she pulled the shotgun from it. With it she shot the scorpion, running backwards to keep away from the thing's claws and stinger. The recoil of the larger, more powerful gun pushed her arms to the limit, but she ignored it. Her life was on the line, her arms didn't matter. When the trigger made a 'click' instead of the usual 'BOOM' she quickly reloaded. The giant radscorpion was moving slower now so she had time, and with it she could aim more. She tried to hit its face area, were the eyes were clustered. After four more shots the giant insect stopped moving.

She went back to the wagon, sat down and waited for the shaking to stop.


	3. 1: Ch 3: Papercut

Chapter 3: "Papercut" by Linkin Park

When the adrenaline surge had passed and Zoiks stopped shaking she retrieved the weapons and reloaded them. She kept the shotgun on her back with the assault rifle this time. Better safe than dead. Putting the purified waters in with her stash of food, she continued south.

The sun was starting to get closer to the horizon on her right when she wondered where she should sleep. She noticed a large building on the left side of the road up ahead that looked uninhabited and decided to sleep there. When she was getting closer, however, through open windows and breaks in the ragged wall she detected several heat signatures on the second floor, one of which looked like a fire. The concrete walls were thick if they could conceal that much heat_. _The building was surrounded by fallen corpses of the less resilient structures around it, so it was easy to approach the building without attracting attention.

As she was getting closer she heard gunshots and some of the unidentified persons fell to the floor. The rest started descending to the bottom level of the building. Her hiding spot gave a view of the fenced door and it was getting dark now so human eyes definitely could not see her. Two of the people carried a third down and then did something on the bottom floor while the rest of them waited by the door. Then they finished, leaving the one they had carried behind. When the people walked out through the doorway she saw that they were very professional-looking Raiders. Two of them had on a strange metal armor with spikes on the shoulders. The others had green, military-looking body armor and they were all armed with white assault rifles that looked better and fancier than hers. She could also see at least one grenade hanging from each one's belt. Their look basically screamed deadly.

After watching them walk off to the west and under the highway, and waiting for a few minutes to make sure they were not coming back, Zoiks hid her wagon in the rubble and she sneaked around to the back of the building. The building had sunk a few feet in the two hundred years since the great war, so she was able to climb in through a low second story window. It made sense to her to avoid the front door, so she did. After seeing how lethal those people looked she was not taking chances.

When she was in the window she took a long look around to assure she was alone. There were rooms to her right and a stairway in the far left corner. The most noticeable trait of the room was that there were several bodies, one of a dog, lying in a circle around a barrel that was still warm from the fire. It looked like they had been sitting in the chairs that also ringed the fire when the group of people with guns had come in. There was a small puddle of blood by the stairs, so the attackers had not made off unscathed, but she could not see any guns near the bodies so she assumed the attackers had taken them.

She had not moved yet, she simply observed all of this. After waiting even longer for any movement Zoiks started searching the bodies. She found little, it looked like these people had been dirt poor, and went to search the rooms. There were three adjoining areas and one of them had a rifle in it, but it was not an assault rifle like the one Zoiks had. The barrel's length was longer and it had only a five-shot clip. It looked to be in working condition, although the duct tape and and wire around the barrel gave her a moments pause, but she slung it over her shoulder anyway. There were thirty rounds for it that she pocketed, along with some food that she found a wooden box for. She took that and left the rooms behind, then went down the stairs to the bottom floor.

Zoiks reached the last step, turned and stopped, shocked. To her left a stone etching read 'The Temple of the Union,' but the last word was barely visible. Over it, in blood, was written 'Slavers.' Next to that was the phrase:

'Ther is no Escap, it only maks death moor paiful'

Under the message a body had been mutilated and it looked like the Slavers had used its parts like paintbrushes for their message. The head had been placed in the middle of the floor, directly in front of her, eyes open and facing the door so that anyone who walked in would notice it.

She had been able to overcome the dead and blown up Raider parts quickly, and the dead people upstairs were manageable, but this was too much for her. _Way _too much. She ran up the stairs and threw up in the barrel that had been used for a fire pit. Panic and paranoia brought on by stress overwhelmed her and she thought, _I need to get out of here. _When she was able to move she jumped out the window, landing a little hard but not feeling it, and bolted for the hiding place she had kept her wagon.

She found it, put the box of food on top of what was already there, grabbed its handle and ran. She rushed away from the horrible sight of the escaped slave's head, but it was burned into her mind and she could not get it out. It was then that she was truly grateful for her NIPC as it flooded her mind with peaceful memories of the lab and her warm bed there, protected by robots. That gave her enough composure to find a small, enclosed space in the rubble to sleep. She hid her wagon nearby, taking all of the guns with her, and crawled into the little cave. She rested her head on her arm, as it was the best pillow she had, and tried to fall asleep.

She couldn't. Her body was exhausted from the day's travel, all she needed to do was keep her head clear for a few minutes but her NIPC kept having to chase away the horrible picture with happy memories.

She remembered the hours the Doctor had spent teaching her through the computer. Everyone had accepted that she had difficulty speaking and had found a way around it. She had been taught to type and read, and she had food to eat and a bed to sleep in. Everything had been perfect.

Her mind was very peaceful when her NIPC stopped running through memories ten minutes later. So peaceful that she started to drift off to sleep…

_She saw the body that had been dismembered, only it was no longer a body, now it was a man with chains around his hands and he was painstakingly chiseling into a stone._

"_Faster!" she heard someone yell as a whip lashed across the man's back. "Faster, damn you!" The wan started working frantically but his weak hands fumbled the chisel and he accidentally hit the stone with the hammer._

"_Now you've done it!" the voice screamed and the whip came down again, this time wrapping around the man's neck. With a snap his head flew off, landing in front of her, eyes open and staring._

_She then saw what the man had been chiseling. It was an inscription on the base of a throne. One of the slavers she had seen was sitting on the thrown with a whip in one hand and one of those fancy, white assault rifles in the other. The inscription under him read: __Ther is no Escap, it only maks death moor paiful._

She woke with a start and her NIPC started flooding her mind with memories again. It took much longer to fall back asleep this time.

* * *

When Zoiks woke up the next morning she was incredibly tired. She slept soundly for a few hours before her nightmare, but after it her rest was fitful and brief. It was not pleasant.

Now that she was up she needed to do something. It was still very early but she knew she could go back to sleep with the nightmares, so she went to take stock of everything she had, rearranging as she went. She went over to the hiding place where she had placed her wagon the night before and uncovered it. There was enough food for about a month and water that would last maybe nine days. She had the rifle that was for long-range shooting, but it wasn't very useful in her hands so the assault rifle would probably be more effective as its could shoot much faster. Then there was the shotgun on her back. She noticed the bags of food were loose on top of the boxes of food she had and she decided she needed to find some way to keep them from falling out of the wagon when she traveled.

She found two irregular rectangles of metal, one of which was a little smaller then the longer side of the wagon and the other was about equal to the long and short side together. She wedged the shorter one in between the wooden box of food and the metal wall along the long side. The longer one fit in the same way; she bent it to form a ninety-degree angle where it lined up with the corner of the wagon, then wedged it in and stepped back to look at her handiwork. The improvement increased three sides of the wagon, the two sides and back, from six inches too about a foot. It was crude and it made slightly more noise. To muffle that she simply found some random bits of paper and cloth and filled the space between the metal sheet and the side of the wagon. While she was at it she looked for the source of the squeak and found that one of the wheels was loose. She tightened it and the noise went away.

When she was finished she set off southward again. Up ahead there was an on-ramp to a portion of the highway that was still upright. She noted it in case she needed a place to retreat to.

After a few hours of walking she came to a place where the ground sloped up and then leveled out into what looked like fenced-off pastures. The paddock area ran far enough that the mutated, two-headed cows at the opposite end would be barley distinguishable if she did not have modified eyes. There were no buildings around so the cattle were just alone, sitting there behind their feeble wooden fence. She found it odd that anyone would leave their livestock unguarded in this unforgiving Wasteland and continued with more caution down the road. About a quarter of the way across the large stretch of land something big and fast sprinted down the hill on the other side of the fields straight for the cows. The thing was _huge. _It was at least eight feet long, had huge, furry paws and it resembled the description that the Doctor had given her of Yao Guai, a mutated variant of the area's native Black Bear. The cows bolted but it slaughtered them in seconds.

It was still far enough away to not notice her, especially as it was now very focused on its food, so she was able to slowly and carefully retrace her steps back up the road without being seen. The first rock she came to she put between her and the thing. Zoiks took a minute to calm herself as she was scared shitless, then looked over the rock to make sure the bear-creature still had not noticed her. When she was sure she was safe she tried to determine where to go. She decided the only option was to go west, under the highway. Just south of the on ramp she had noticed earlier was a section of the turnpike that had fallen and she went towards that area, intending to cross over it. As she moved forward the sight of the Yao Guai was lost behind a small hill, allowing her to breath easier.


	4. 1: Ch 4: Mutfruit

Chapter 4: No song this time. Title: "Mutfruit"

There were a few mines along the road, which Zoiks saw and avoided, scattered near the broken part of the motorway. As she followed the flattest path over the rubble something to her right caught her eye. A very wide, thick piece of the road with a car still on it had fallen and landed so that it was close to level and it had several feet of debris under it. The wreckage beneath formed a jagged wall and in a narrow recess was a large, flat sheet of metal that looked out of place, like it was unnatural that it happened to fall that way. It could easily have been overlooked by anyone without her exceptional vision, as shrouded in shadow as it was.

She approached and when she got closer she saw that there were two pieces of rebar poking through holes near the top of the sheet and if she pulled on the metal it would swing like a hatch. Curious, she found a place to hide her wagon, returned and pulled up on the bottom sheet of metal. It swung easily on the improvised hinges and opened to a narrow tunnel through the pile of debris. She was wary that there would be something dangerous in the cavern, but her curiosity overcame fear and she started forward.

The many sharp edges and pointed pieces of metal that should have lined the walls had been dulled, bent away or removed, making it possible to walk down the rough corridor without being cut to ribbons. It went a distance before it turned right, then a few feet to another corner. This started a series of turns, and soon the light from the entrance faded away. It was dark enough to give even her exceptional vision some trouble. The gloom gave her an eerie feeling, so it probably would have effectively deterred someone with normal vision. It seemed the purpose of the dark, zigzagging entrance was to slow down anyone that was trying to get in.

Then, just as she saw the faint glow of a heat signature radiating from around the next corner, her foot stepped on something that resisted slightly before being pressed down to the floor. Something fell to the ground behind her and she dove forward, just getting around the corner as a blast sent bits of shrapnel flying everywhere. A few small pieces ricocheted around the funnel-like area, hitting her in the back and slicing through the fabric of the clothing she wore, causing sharp pains across her back. The noise of the explosion was tremendous in the confined space and Zoiks was stunned for a second by it.

When she started to move she... not really heard, as she could not hear anything at the moment, but sensed a gun being clicked. "Don't move," She heard a female voice say commandingly, yet dimly, as if from far away. Then the woman spoke again, this time in an accusing and suspicious southern voice, "Why're you here?"

It took Zoiks a few seconds to answer, and the answer was not very satisfying anyway. "I… I'bmeabmn no harbm," Zoiks said thickly, struggling to make her mouth and tongue move in synchronization so that the words would be understandable. It did not help that she was on her stomach and it was harder to enunciate. Her hands were lying on the ground near the shotgun so she slowly moved them away from it and up into the air, emphasizing her good intentions.

"What is wrong with you? Can't talk?" the woman asked, her voice softening slightly from confusion but she did not lower the long-barreled rifle in her hands.

"No, I jus' cabmn' sthpeek bery well."

"Oh. Well, what were you doing comein' into my house?" she asked, a little defensively.

"I waths justht thearching. I dibmn' know anyobmne waths here. I dobmn' wabmn' to fight." She held her hands up higher to make that point clear.

"Well, alright, get up. But don't ya pull nothin' funny now. And I'll take those," she added as she walked over and snatched the guns away. Zoiks tried to stand but her back hurt immensely so she stopped with a gasp of pain. Hearing, the woman came back over to help her. "Oh, it looks like the 'nade caught you right on yo' back. Here, get to the bed. As long as yo' friendly I s'pose I gotta ta fix ya up, since I been the one ta hurt ya n'all." She helped Zoiks get to her feet and set her on the bed, although the woman seemed to be wary of the close proximity and stayed alert for any sudden movements.

"Thebmnk you," Zoiks said, feeling relieved that the woman had not killed her outright. She lay down on her stomach, which was uncomfortable it stretched the skin on her back.

"I'm gonna have ta take yo' shirt off if you want me ta fix ya," the woman said as Zoiks felt her shirt be lifted up to her shoulders. The feel of movement on her lower back caused a tingly sensation. She raised her arms, which washed away the feeling with pain, and the shirt slid over her head.

It did not feel overly weird being half naked in front of someone, the Doctor had performed routine checkups on her to make sure her body did not reject the modifications that had been made to it. But it was a little awkward as this person was a _complete stranger._ When the woman started prodding the sensitive wound, goose bumps rose all over Zoiks's body and the pain was almost eclipsed by a strange, tingly shiver that ran down her. It started at the point where contact was made and pulsating around her body. It disappeared completely, though, when the woman plucked a sliver of metal out of her back. That was just painful.

"You are lucky ya had that there gun on yo' back. If ya hadn't there would be a lot more'n just three cuts. This'll fix right up with a stim as soon as I get the metal out. What's yo' name, anyway?"

"ZO-eks," she replied carefully. Her name was one of the few words that she had mastered.

"Zoiks? What kind a' name is that? Sounds like somethin' ya would say when ya see yo' first Deathclaw." She punctuated her remark with a quick tug and a sharp pain shot through Zoiks's back. "Almost done now, just one more." There was another tug and the last piece of shrapnel exited her body. There was a poke from a needle and she felt her back started to heal. Her shirt landed next to her, apparently the woman had thrown it, and she put it on, facing away from the woman as she did so.

When she turned around she noticed the features of the room she was in for the first time. It was dug into the ground slightly, making the height of the room just high enough that she did not have to stoop like she had in the corridor. The bed she sat on was pushed up against the wall. Also in the room was a kitchen area, complete with an oven that she assumed worked, against the opposite wall and some troughs with glowing fruit growing out of them occupying the rest of the center of the space. There were a few storage cabinets and cupboards and main light source was a light panel that had been stuck to the ceiling above the plants, and it was powerful enough to illuminate most of the room. The entrance was on her right, a narrow passage between two walls made of rubble and wreckage from the broken highway that made the roof.

A flickering screen at the back of the room caught her eyes, sitting in the middle of junk electronic gear on a table. "I cabmn type," Zoiks said, pointing at the monitor.

"So?" was the perplexed reply.

"I cabmn talk bebtter thebt way."

"Oh, alright. Go ahead," the woman said, watching her suspiciously.

Zoiks sat down on a folding chair in front of the computer, it was an old weather station access terminal from what she read on the side of the unit. She brought up an information page and after a quickly scanned it to see if there was any knowledge she could use. There was the record of a major rainstorm just a few months ago. It intrigued her that the computer had a working connection to some sort of weather array, but it was not important. She deleted the log and started typing.

_What is your name? _she wrote.

The woman read the message, then said, "Oh, my name's Gretts. That's what people'd call me, at least. That was back when I lived in Canterbury Commons though."

_How did you build this place? It is very well made._

"I didn't make it, I found that there hole in the wall accidentally and came in and found this here cave. It was smaller then. I done cleared it out and used the rubbish that was here ta make the tunnel longer and harda ta notice. Then I saw that hole there in the road at the back there and I cova'd it with a truck so that none a those Raidas can find that way in." Zoiks looked into a corner to her right and saw a five-foot-wide hole in the fallen road above her. Covering the hole was the bottom of a vehicle that looked like someone had cut a narrow gap into. "That there hole in the bottom of the truck there is fer escaping in case someone finds the normal entrance and the nade' don't kill them. So where ya headed?"

_South, I figured then I would be able to find some more food if I was closer to the city._

"Well ya can think again if ya want ta go into the city. There's more supermutants in that hellhole then anywhere else that I know of."

_I was not planning on it. I just wanted to find a place with more food so that I could survive. After that I don't know what to do. I'm sure I will find something._

_ "_Well, if food is a problem for ya, I might be able ta help ya some. My main source of provisions is this plant. The Mutfruit is the best thing that has ever been called food in the Wasteland." As she was talking she pointed at the plants.

What Gretts said had confused her. She had been taught that most all plant life died from the extreme levels of background radiation, and everything that did survive were only small grasses and shrubs, nothing edible. _What do you mean, Mute-fruit? _She typed. She spelled the name the way it sounded as there was no other way that she could think of.

"Well, I'm not sure that's how it's spelled. I think they used ta be called raspberries, back 'fore they was mutated. Used ta be red, too, now they purple n' bright blue on some parts of 'um. They're a little radioactive, but so is the food that ya find lying around in old stores, so there is not much ya can do 'bout that. They taste better'n that stuff too, n' if ya can find some Yao Guai meat n' stew 'um together it makes the best thing that I've ever eaten in the Wasteland. I have some stew here if ya want some, but it aint got no Yao Guai in it, 'nfortunatly. Just some giant ant meat, but it's still somethin' ta eat. Here," she said as she went over to the stove to get some of the strange soup. She found a large metal bowl that was lying around and filled it about halfway with soup. Then Gretts put a spoon in it, brought it over and set it down in front of her.

_Thenk you, _Zoiks wrote.

Tentatively, she brought the spoon to her mouth. The concoction did not smell particularly bad. However, it looked, well, like an unknown meat mixed with a mutated, glowing fruit in a bowl of water that was two types of hot, warm and radioactive. She started with a piece of the meat first, it tasted bad but at least she already knew that. Ant meat was even worse than mole rat. It had softened slightly from the cooking, now it was more like chewing rubber then Kevlar. She thought that that was quite an improvement actually, and the meat had an outlandish, tangy taste to it that she assumed was from the mutfruit. She ate three more pieces of meat before she dared try one of the bits of glowing blue plant. As her teeth bit into it the thick skin around it came apart and the tangy taste filled her mouth, much more intense than the taste on the meat. She almost gagged because of the overwhelming flavor. The thick skin gave her something to chew on and it seemed like it would probably be a filling food that she would not have to eat much of to stop hunger pains. Gretts had been watching her face to see her reaction and was pleased with what she saw.

"You like it, don't ya." It was not a question; it was more of a happy, gloating accusation. "I knew ya would, everyone does. The mutfruit is the best food in the Wastes that I've tasted. I've heard that Mirelurk meat can taste good, but I ain't tried any so I can't tell ya about that. All I know is that this here is good food."

_I agree, _Zoiks answered, using one hand to type as she continued to eat with the other. _So, do they grow in seasons? What is their usual production rate?_

"They grow all the time and they ave'rge two fruit a week. The big one on the end there makes two about every five days. I guess the radiation affected their rate a' pra'duction 'cause I don't think they grew all that quick 'fore the booms fell. Also, I think they live longern' normal too, about four years now. They used ta only live one year, I'm pretty sure, back when they was normal."

_What would you sell one of those plants for?_

"Well, I have plenty extra plants. I usually sell the fruit that I don't eat to the traders. Although I don't need 'em, they make me a fair amount a' money, so they ain't gonna be cheep. I'd say a hundred n' fifty caps."

Zoiks knew that 'caps' meant bottle caps and that they were the currency of the Wasteland, but she still did not have any, so it did not matter. _How about we trade? I don't have any caps._

_ "_Okay, what do ya have ta trade?"

_Hold on, let me go get my stuff. I left it all outside when I decided to investigate this place. _Zoiks got up, taking one last bite of the fruit, and went out to her wagon. She decided she would leave all of the water and two weeks worth of food. Everything else, the other half of the food, the two guns, the ammo, everything, she would take to see what they were worth and to try and make a deal with them. The food was not a major factor anymore because if she had one of those plants she could stretch her current supplies longer and not have to carry as much at the same time. She then went through the food she was willing to trade and made sure that it was mostly food she did not like, saving any Snack Cakes she found and putting them back in the wagon. When she was done she hid the wagon again, slung the guns over her back, which was about thirty-five ponds worth of metal, and grabbed one bag of food with each hand.

When Zoiks returned she and Gretts bartered for a while and finally decided on a price. For the largest and most productive Mutfruit plant Gretts would get both bags of food, the long-range rifle, which Gretts called a hunting rifle, and the ammo for that weapon. The gun Gretts already had was the same as the one she wanted. She said she could repair her original with it. Also, Gretts apparently liked Cram because she was very happy to see the bags of food were mostly filled with it. Zoiks supposed it went well with Mutfruit, and that was why Gretts liked it so much.

They bid farewell and Zoiks left, after reclaiming her confiscated guns, of course, with her new plant in a large metal cooking pot filled with dirt. It was a few hours after noon and she would need to find a place to sleep before night feel. She started walking south, still following the broken highway, and she soon saw a metal shack to her right. It was inhabited, she could tell from the clear heat signatures glowing through the thin walls, and she went slower so that she would not attract attention. There was a small field to the south of the shack, nothing compared to the huge expanse she had seen that morning, and in it were a few more two-headed cows. There was a cliff that bordered the field on the side opposite the highway and the small area around the shack reminded Zoiks of a valley. With two large objects on either side it could easily be overlooked. When she had passed the shack and was just getting to the point where the cliff several dozen feet to the west melded into flat ground again she decided to start moving west. The downtown area was still far off but she did not want to get close at all.

Zoiks was about halfway across the field when her NIPC detected movement on the top of the cliff to her right. She looked up and saw that another Yao Guai was running quietly away from her towards something she could not see. She looked closer at the cliff ledge to see if she could find what the bear was attacking. She saw it just as the bear was preparing to pounce on it from behind. She could only see the top half of the person's head, as it was the only part that was not hidden behind a rock. He had a pair of sunglasses on and dirty blond hair, but the most important feature that she could make out was that he had a sniper rifle in his hands and it was aimed at her. Just before the flash she saw the man's head turn the smallest amount, as he finally perceived the ferocious animal that was now in mid air and flying at him. Then there was a flash from the gun and Zoiks blacked out…


	5. 1: Ch 5: Another Hole In The Head

Chapter 5: "Another Hole In The Head" by Nickleback

When Zoiks woke up she was seriously disoriented. Then her NIPC washed away all confusion by quickly running through what had occurred before she blacked out. She did not know how she was still alive, but she was not going to reject another cahnce at life if it was being offered. She sprang to her feet, ignoring the immense pain in her head, and scanned the top of the cliff where she had last sensed danger. While she did her NIPC checked the sun and calculated how long she had been unconscious. Apparently she had been out for about half an hour. The thought that the Doctor should have put in a simple internal clock into her NIPC ran through her mind.

All of these things happened in about two seconds while Zoiks was also checking around herself for danger. There was nothing that she could see except that the heat signatures from the metal shack far off to her right were gone. With no immediate threat to give her body a reason to produce adrenalin she started to calm, and with the calm came more pain from her head. She nearly passed out again as the full force hit her. She did not have any medical supplies, so she could not heal herself. The pain was centered on the right side of her head and it pulsed with every beat of her heart. She reached up and, using the precision that her mechanical muscles gave her, she brushed the wound with the lightest of touches. She felt a long, narrow gouge that ran from just behind her temple and through the very top of the flap of skin that connected her ear to her head. It was lucky that the man who had shot her had been distracted at the last moment or she probably would have been shot directly in the forehead. Still, the shot seamed to have grazed her skull, judging from the incredible pain she was feeling, and she was bleeding quite a bit. The best thing she could do was to rip a piece of cloth off of one of the food bags in the wagon and tie it lightly around the gash to try and stop the bleeding, so that was what she did. It did not help the pain, in fact it made it much worse.

Then Zoiks started across the field again towards the hill that led up to the top of the cliff. It was very rocky so she had to move away from the edge of the cliff several feet. She found the place where the sniper had shot at her among the rocky area near the edge of the cliff. As she approached she saw the body of the Yao Guai lying on top of a body, leaving only the legs visible. The bear had cooled significantly, being dead for more than hour, but the legs that she could see were normal body temperature. The man was either still alive or had just died a few minutes ago. After leaving the wagon behind, not bothering to hide it as she would not be long, she approached quietly and detected a slight movement in the bear. The man was alive, then, as he was causing the bear to move slightly with each breath.

He was a few feet away from the edge, the fight had probably forced him to move away to avoid being pushed off, and the sniper rifle he had shot with was lying precariously on the precipice near a pack that was probably the man's. The man could not see her as the body of the bear was in the way so she went over and took the rifle. Then she started searching the pack for anything useful. She found eight stimpacks and immediately used one on her head to stop the pain that was still excruciating. Along with the medicine she found a cartoon of cigarettes, a few dozen rounds of very large bullets that she assumed were for the sniper rifle, some odd bits of guns and machines that were partially intact, a metal loop that had an unidentifiable piece of technology attached to it and a small amount of food. Zoiks took the other seven stimpacks, the food and the bullets. Then she removed the shotgun from her back and cautiously went up to the man that had shot her.

She knew she should kill him, but she did not like the idea. To save herself in a fight she would kill without hesitation, but the man was defenseless and injured already so he posed no threat to her. It seamed wrong. But if he was allowed to live than he probably would try to kill her. Still not sure what she was going to do, she walked around the dead bear into the man's line of sight. She kept her shotgun up and ready to fire as she did, in case he was armed. He was not armed, she noticed immediately, and she loosened her grip on the gun, keeping it aimed up but more relaxed.

He noticed her immediately and flinched at the gun she held. He was defenseless, injured and immobile, so he would not live long even if she decided not to kill him.

Over the barrel of her weapon she observed him. He had a scar on his neck that looked relatively new, matted, dirty blond hair, and he was wearing sunglasses and a leather jacket that looked like it had thin plates of armor sewn into it.

"W-Why did you shoobmt me?" Zoiks stuttered awkwardly.

"To take your stuff," the man replied indifferently. "You had a wagon full of stuff so I figure you must be a trader that lost her brahmin and was to poor to hire a guard. You had something I could use, I thought I could kill you, so I tried. How are you still alive, anyway? I know the Yao Guai threw off my shot, but not enough to prevent it from killing you." He stayed impassive while he talked.

She pointed at her skull and said, "Hard head. Dobmn't you hab any rebmorse for killing?" Zoiks did not know why she kept talking, she should just kill the man now, but she felt interested in why this man had done what he did. She wanted to get in her almost-murderer's head. Inside herself she could feel that if she killed him she would feel bad at taking another human's life, and she wanted to understand the process that the man had gone through in which her somehow overrode those strong emotions that were natural to most humans.

"Why would I? This is the Wasteland, remorse gets you killed. When all of the other people in the world are merciless you can't afford not to be cold. It is survival of the fittest out here, and that means the meanest, toughest bastards are the only ones left standing." It sounded like something a Raider would believe to justify the things they did. Then a thought came to her.

"Are you a Raider? You donbm't loobk like one, but you thibmnk like one."

"No. Well, I guess I am still. I used to have a gang down a few miles south of here. We were holed up in an old market until some fucking guy snuck in and killed all of my people. Gave me that scar there on my neck, too. Since then I have been wandering the Wastes trying to survive. Made some extra caps on the side dealing with Par- some people. So, I don't really know if I am still a Raider or not, without a gang I'm just like any other Wastelander now.

"Peoble?" Zoiks asked. "'Dat is not what you were going to thay, you were abou' to thay sompthing else."

"No I wasn't," he said, completely blank in the face. There was no outward sign that he might be lieing or telling the truth to a normal person's eyes. But his internal temperature rose slightly and she caught him.

"Yeth, you were."

He paused for a moment, then conceded. "Okay, almost said Paradise Falls."

Zoiks simply stood there, stunned. She knew what that was. Easily one of the most recognizable and feared names in the wasteland, Paradaise Falls was the main bastion of the slavers. _Slavers. _The word rang through her mind again and again, like an echo in a cave.

"Y-You work for the slabers?" Zoiks asked, letting just a touch of anger color her words.

"Well, only when some pathetic excuse for a person come along. Usually the scum that I pick up are half dead from lack of food or water. When they are that bad off slavery is better than a slow death, and they have some chance of escape from slavery. You can't escape death in the Wasteland." It sounded almost acceptable the way he put it. His tone was still even, he was obviously trying to calm her so that she would not shoot him. She decided to keep it civil a while longer, but the temptation to kill the man was much stronger now.

"H-How dibd you gebt them to Para- ah! Parada-ieth Falls?"

When he answered he seemed slightly tense. The muscles in his neck and temples clinched, imperceptibly to anyone that did not have her enhanced vision. He was clearly unnerved that he had been called out, and was trying to lie better this time. There was very little change in his temperature this time. "I just told them to come with me or I would kill them."

She eyed him suspiciously. "You lie," she said coldly

He looked at her with a mixture of amazement and puzzlement. Apparently he was not used to people catching him when he lied. "I told you everything."

Zoiks noticed his heat signature rise slightly again. She decided to push him, she was in control of the situation so she could do anything she wanted at that point. "How dibd you keep them from running away at nighbt."

"I would have noticed and woke up. They knew that and did not try anything."

"You lie," she said again.

"I… have ways, okay?" Then she remembered the strange explosive that had been in his pack. It would fit around a human's neck, so that was probably the item that he used to keep his captives in line. She walked to his pack and took the item out. Then she walked back to the man, noticing the look on his face when he saw it. "I thought you did not support slavery! Anyway, if you get me all the way to Paradise Falls the slavers will just kill you and let me free." He was desperate now, and lying too, based on the rapidly twitching muscle at his temple.

"You will see." After a few minutes of tinkering with the slave collar and programming a few interactions between her computer mind and the collar, she returned. She turned to show him the almost unnoticeable bump on her neck, "This is a Compubter. This," she held up the collar, "receives a signal from the compubter. If I die, you die. If you run, you die."

He looked like he understood what she had said. He also looked horrified.

"That is still slavery! You said that was wrong!"

"I'bm not going to kill you now. If I dobmn't do this you will kill me." Then with one deft movement she slipped the collar onto him. As soon as he realized what she was doing he tried to push her off, but he was weak from blood loss and she was able to simply overpower him. When she was sure it was attached she grabbed the large, bleeding bear that was pinning his legs and pushed it off of him. He let out a scream of pain as she did that, meaning his leg was probably broken.

"So, now that you have me between a rock and a hard place, how am I supposed to go anywhere? There is no way I am going to be able to walk on these." He motioned towards his legs.

"Stibmpacks," she said simply.

"Wait," he said after a second of puzzled staring, "you are going to use a valuable stimpack on me?" He paused for a second and stared at her in bewilderment. "Not that I am complaining, but you don't really know how to handle your slaves, do you?"

She did not answer; she just gave him a revolted look and went to get the stims. She jabbed one into his left leg and then threw a relatively clean piece of cloth at him so that he could tie up one of his shoulders, which had been clawed by the Yao Guai.

"There, now gebt up." She tried to sound cold and rough. It didn't work, so she just walked over to the wagon and started west, the direction she had been traveling before she was shot.

She sensed the man move around for a second, probably to bandage his shoulder, and then get up and put his pack on. He started getting closer quickly, but she did not hear his movements, so she figured he was trying to sneak up on her. "Don't even try it," she said, still facing forward. He stopped. "Good, now keep at least a five foot distance from me."

"How did you hear me? I was as silent as a freaking mouse."

"I dibd not hear you. I saw you." That comment shut him up for a while. They continued on their way.

After covering about a quarter of a mile, a river came into view ahead of them and to their left. The land was smoothing out into gently rolling hills.

As they started climbing the next slope the man said, "You might not want to go over there. On the other side is a nest of mole rats and I don't think we should waste the ammo on them."

"Um, thabnks." Then she realized that she did not even know the man's name. "Whabt is your name?"

"Sam. Sam Warrick. Where are we headed, anyway?"

"I was loobking for a pblace to live with no Subper Mutants and Raiders."

"Well, both of those groups have encampments all over the Wasteland, so what you are looking for does not exist."

"Oh," she was startled that there was nowhere in the Wasteland at all that was relatively caml, "well then, a pblace with enough food to live."

"So, anywhere near a trader route."

"Whabt could I trade?"

He gave her a look of astonishment, and then said, "Oh, I forgot. You are opposed to killing."

"I'bm nobt going to kill for foobd."

"Then how are you going to eat_?_" he said, as if there was no possible way to get food other than taking it from others.

She pointed at the Mutfruit plant in the wagon. "Those are foobd. And there's probably some foobd in old builbdings." He looked at her as if she was out of her mind.

"You actually think _that_ is edible?" He pointed at the plant, surprise and doubt clear on his face.

"I know it is, I habe eaten some before. It is very goobd."

"If you say so," Sam said.

That was the last of the conversation. They found what looked like an old junkyard and camped there for the night. As she tried to fall asleep, Zoiks realized she did not feel right, but for some reason she knew it had nothing to do with the homicidal ex-Raider that was lying on the ground ten feet away. It was more like an ominous feeling, as if there was something weird about that night, or maybe it was the junkyard they were in. She did not know, but as she rolled over to try to get comfortable, she knew something was wrong. After pointlessly reminding her NIPC (she was the one who needed reminding, not it) to keep a tab on her senses so that she was not snuck up on by anything, she drifted off into a calm restful sleep, devoid of nightmares or flashbacks.


	6. 1: Ch 6: With You

Chapter 6: "With You" by Linkin Park

Zoiks woke early the next morning when her NIPC told her that Sam was moving. She rubbed her mechanical eyes and got up, glancing at the man that she was forcing to follow her. She was trying to convince herself that what she had done was the best thing, that killing him would have been worse, but she was unsuccessful. The thought that she was no better than the slavers who had slaughtered the slaves at the Temple of the Union kept entering her head.

Just then, Sam chose that moment to speak. "So, where are we going today," he said in a sarcastically bright tone.

"I was thinbking we thoulbd head south and scabenge."

"Well South would lead you into a large band of Raiders that control most of the area south of the river."

"Then we thoulbd…" she started to say, making a vague gesture east, but she was cut off.

"East leads you directly to Paradise Falls, but before you can even get there you have to go through a camp of supermutants. North is a ruined city full of Deathclaws, and west is No-Man's-Land, probably why you came from there." His steely mask of cold disdain was back now, his head cocked slightly to the side and the faintest sneer possible poking through his otherwise blank expression.

Zoiks took a few moments to catch up with the argument she had not known she was having. Apparently Sam had used the time of rest to plan a verbal attack, probably to guilt her into letting him go, and he was going to try and use surprise to his advantage. Suddenly Sam broke the silence. "I have a question for you. Why did you do this to me," as he said this he gestured to the collar that concealed the scar on his neck, "I mean, seriously, just kill me."

"I dibd thabt because it's the onwy way to detain you." Hoping to end the argument she continued. "Look, now thabt we're in this thituation, how about we work togezer to twy and thtay alive in this godfowthaken pwace. We can hewp each other."

It was then that Sam's mask broke and was replaced by an angry scowl. "So the real reason you kept me is so I would help you! Your so pathetic a fighter that you would not last five seconds without me! Well then guess what, you can find your own way through the Wasteland, I'm not going to be your guard dog." He started to walk away but immediately the collar on his neck beeped, making him stop in his tracks.

After walking around to him until she was in his face she sneered, "Look, _buddy. _I dibd not want to go this far with this bubt you aw making me. Now you aw going to hewp me whezer you wike it o' not because _I _am in contwol here." She emphasized this with another beep, which made Sam jump about a foot. "Now, we aw going south. If we meebt any Waiders," she paused and drew the assault rifle off of her back rather dramatically, "then we shall just habe to kiw them. Now get youw ath in geaw." And with that she set off south, towards the river.

Taken aback greatly from this outburst, Sam followed quietly. He had been playing on the assumption that Zoiks would not kill him because of her lack of grit and her peculiar, gentle nature. Now that she had show that she would not hesitate in killing him if he rebelled he had lost the only card he had to play. Now, he realized, he was completely at the mercy of this unbalanced android, who, it just so happened, did not even know the most basic thing about survival. He wondered if this was how it felt for the slaves he brought in.

While Sam was revising his outlook on the world, Zoiks was being overcome with waves of self-disgust. It had taken her all of the self control to force her will over Sam. As soon as she had turned away she saw, in her head, a replay of the nightmare that she had been having, only instead of a marble throne the slaver was sitting on an elaborate metal seat fastened to the slaves back. Instead of the dead slave she had seen at the Temple of the Union, the slave was Sam, and instead of a slaver in metal armor, it was herself, a whip in one had, a white assault rifle in the other, and a wicked, evil smile upon her own lips.

She kept her back to Sam as they walked south, so that he would not see her tears.

An hour and a half later they were still in the same orientation, the only thing that had changed was the terrain. Zoiks was still stomping across the Wasteland fists clenched, arms stiff at her sides and back turned to the man she was growing to hate, and he was still slumped and looking defeated. The difference was that they were now passing through an old junkyard as opposed to the rolling hills and sharp cliffs of the Wasteland. Zoiks knew it was unwise to walk along without at least trying to conceal her movements but she was still too distraught to care. She was certain her NIPC would notice if anything was trying to kill her so she just kept moving.

As they were about halfway through the tangle of old cars and twisted metal her she heard what sounded like growling in the distance. As she had not been paying attention she assumed it had been pushed to the front of her mind by her NIPC. Then there was the sound of barking and someone shouted. It seamed like the noises were coming from Zoiks's right and they were getting closer. Her assault rifle was still out so she crouched and raised it to her shoulder, waiting. She sensed Sam stop behind her as well. Then, from behind a bus about thirty feet away they saw two Raiders retreating beneath an onslaught of eight rabid dogs. The Raiders were already badly wounded and only a few seconds after they came into view the first fell backward and was covered in a writhing layer of teeth, claws and matted fur. The other turned and ran as soon as most of the dogs were distracted, but was taken down by two more that had not stopped to devour the first person. After a few seconds the largest of the dogs noticed Sam and Zoiks and it gave one loud bark. The others looked up at this and there was a tense second of eerie silence.

A small object flew past Zoiks from behind her and in response to the movement the dogs attacked. The object landed several feet in front of the dogs and, just as they were passing it, it exploded. Zoiks did not look away, her modified eyes could handle the overstimulation of viewing an explosion, and as soon as the first dog ran through the cloud of dust she fired a quick burst. The five bullets brought the dog down and, although it was not dead, it was not going to be moving again. As she aimed back up towards the dust again another dog ran through, but before she could shoot a bullet zipped over her head and the dog nearly split in half. It fell to the ground with a large hole in its head. Two more quickly followed and Zoiks was able to kill them, the last one's body skidding to a halt at her feet. Then there was silence as the smoke cleared and they saw that there were no more dogs, Sam's grenade having blown up the rest.

As Zoiks turned to continue walking she heard a soft whimper. She remembered the first dog, the one that had not died instantly when she had shot it. It was whimpering and there was a growing puddle of blood on the ground. Seeing it was going to die anyway, she aimed carefully and fired once. Then she continued walking.

That night still not a word had been between Sam and Zoiks. The sun had just set and they were camped in a shallow hole at the base of a large rock that gave them some cover. When Zoiks peered out over the edge of the hole they were in she saw that the ground sloped downward toward a river. She also noticed that they were much closer to downtown D.C. than they wanted to be, so she decided they would head west instead of south in the morning. Trying to spot any obstacles that might be in their way she squinted out into the darkness. Just on the other side of the river was a rather new looking supermarket. Farther up the river was a bridge that must have been for the raised highway she had followed toward D.C. previously. Downriver from the supermarket was the city and she could see a _lot_ of heat coming up out of the ruins of the Capital. She noticed a bump in the distance to the west of the city that looked like a small metal castle that was completely encircled. She could she faint heat pluming up above it, showing it was inhabited, and she made a note to herself to avoid it. Beyond that, far to the southwest, she could barely discern what looked like a tall building sticking up from behind the hills, only visible because it was glowing slightly with several different types of energy, the main two being thermal and normal light from many working light bulbs.

When she could gain no more knowledge from observing the surrounding land she curled up on the opposite side of the hole from Sam, he had chosen to sleep at the foot of the rock, and went to sleep.

* * *

Zoiks woke up a few hours later to a low rumbling. Before her NIPC could distinguish what the sound was a wave of radiation washed over her. This startled her and she looked up, only to be nearly blinded by a bright light that lit up the area to the south like a second sun. Her eyes where quickly able to adjust so that they transmitted less stimulus to her brain and a second later she was able to see again.

Everything, everywhere, was bathed in a dangerously high level of radiation. There was a large mushroom cloud that was rising into the air, outlined, she could she, by even higher levels of radiation along with intense heat. She was able to catch a quick glimpse of all of this before a wall of air, just as hot and radioactive as the cloud rising above, plowed over the shallow hole she shared with Sam. She had just enough time to dive to the ground before the scalding wave reached them. For what seamed like an eternity, but was probably more like ten seconds, the incredibly loud roaring of the wind, mixed with the deafening sound of the explosion that was just reaching her, was the only thing she could determine. She felt something, but she did not know what it was, the sound was so consuming.

And suddenly, it was gone. The wind passed over them and there was silence. Zoiks tried to inhale, but there did not seem to be any air to get. Her insides felt like they were trying to push themselves up out of her mouth, a horrible parody of nausea that made her think that her body was rebelling against itself. She lifted her head to see if it was over, and as she did her back seared in agony. She regained her sense of feeling again and the first thing her body told her was _Pain. _It felt like her entire back had been melted off. Her head hit the ground again, as she could not lift it without making the pain worse, and as she lay there she heard another low rumbling.

The wind started back up again, but it was going in the opposite direction now. She could tell it was increasing in speed, but it was not directly hitting her. The rock that they had camped near was shielding them from this second attack.

After about five seconds after the wind started again, just as she was starting to get lightheaded, she realized she was slowly becoming able to breathe again. Although her back protested with every movement it was a relief that air was back in her lungs.

Moving carefully, she started moving her arm, trying to reach the pocket where she had placed the stimpacks she had taken from Sam. When she had one in her hand she reached back to inject it into herself, but as she did her skin stretched, causing the most pain she had felt yet, and she lost consciousness.


	7. 2: Ch 1: I'm Just A Kid

AN/ Cornelu is pronounced like Cornell university, but with an "ou" sound at the end like in the word "through." Also, I recently shortened this a bit. Most of you know the little bits of lore and character background anyway, so I did not want to waste time. Like right now, how I'm wasting time explaining it. -sigh- Let's get this show on the road.

* * *

Part 2: Independence

Chapter 1: "I'm Just a Kid" by Simple Plan

A month before the mysterious explosion, a young man slept peacefully in the safety of Vault 101. Cornelu was drifting through the recesses of his mind, random memories about long hours spent writing computer programs, tinkering with mechanical equipment, playing baseball and studying human anatomy flitted through his mind in the nonsensical manner of dreams. The surreal world shifted, centering around a medical stimpack. In reality, the device would induce healing at an accelerated rate, but the phantasmagorical version was being used to pressurize a pipe of some sort. Finding this not at all out of place in dreamworld, Cornelu simply passed by with a cheery nod.

Suddenly he was being shaken awake. He looked up and saw Amata with a worried look on her face.

"Wake up!" she shouted, "Your dad left the Vault and my father's men are coming after you!"

"Wait, what?" He was really confused.

"You have to leave the Vault or my dad is going to kill you!"

"Um, leave to where!" he yelled? He was starting to panic now.

"I don't know but you have to get out of the Vault. Here, these are the keys to my father's office. If you get there then you can open the tunnel under his desk. Take this gun, too. It only has a few bullets but it should be enough, I hope." She sounded like she was feeling equal amounts of uncertainty and shock at what she was saying. "I have to go try and talk some sense into my father. Good bye." She sounded sad but it still seamed much too easy for her to say that. She was supposed to be his friend and she was definitely his crush, and she just took off with barely a warning. He took the gun, 10mm pistol from what he could tell, and the two spare clips and got up.

He went through the things in his room and had everything he needed from it in less than a minute. There was not much, just ten stims and a med-x from the medicine cabinet, a few changes of clothes and the baseball bat from his practice last week. He packed everything into a pre-war backpack he had never used, except the 10mm and the bat which he carried, and went to the refrigerator. He thought that if he was going to leave the vault then he would need food and water. Everything in the refrigerator had a short self-life when warm so he only took the liquids. He dumped their contents down the sink and filled them with water from the tap. All together that gave him about two gallons of water that he put in his pack. He also took some of the longer-lasting food from the cupboards. When he ran out of room in his pack he took some stims from there and put them in his pants pocket, so they would be easy to get at if he was hurt and needed them.

Every few seconds he would glance at the door, wondering how long he had before he would be found. Soon his anxiety of being found and killed overcame his fear of being unprepared. The 10mm pistol was similar to the BB gun he had used in that the safety, magazine catch and disassembly mechanisms were easy to find and use. The clip of the 10mm fell smoothly without sticking as he checked the ammo. There was a full clip of 12 bullets_**. **_He slid the backpack onto his shoulders, put the pistol loosely into the outside pocket of the backpack near his hip so he would be able to draw it with his right hand and grabbed his baseball bat. Of course he had his Pip-Boy three thousand, a small computer attached to his wrist that could pick up radio waves, monitor his body, detect radiation and act as a notepad. It did not come off.

As he left his residence the first thing he saw was one of the Overseer's officers holding a police baton and being attacked by several radroaches. He quickly ducked back into the living room, dropped the bat and drew. He sat there, aiming at the door, waiting for the officer to come around the corner. As he did so he listened and heard the officer start swearing and making sounds like he was in pain. After a few minutes the sound stopped and he peaked around the corner. There were only two roaches left and they were sitting on top of the officer's body, ripping off small pieces of flesh. Cornelu's eyes widened at the scene. When he thought back on this moment he was astounded that, looking at this, the first thought that popped into his head was, _Was he really such a bad fighter that he let _insects _kill him?_

That thought lessened the shock for him as he realized what he was looking at. A dead person. A dead _human._ Because of the medical experience he had training with his dad he was not overly appalled by the sight, but he still had to hold back the vomit. Action. He needed to do something, get his mind off it.

With this thought in mind he went back and picked up the bat that was lying on the ground, holstered his 10mm and got ready to fight. The noise of him banging on the wall attracted the bugs and he killed them with a single swing of his bat each. He went into the hall and found that if he really tried he could think about the dead officer just like it was a dead radroach. He glanced at it and noticed the light armor that it wore was much more protective and resistant to damage than what he was wearing now. So, methodically, like he would with a sick person or maybe dead animal, he took the armor off of the body. It was not stitched into the clothing, it was just strapped on to whatever body part it was protecting, so it was not that hard to remove. When he had all of the pieces of armor off, except a few around the neck that were soaked in blood, he put them on. If the thought _I am wearing a dead man's clothes _had popped into his mind he would have thrown up, but it didn't so he didn't.

He moved forward, bat still at the ready, and saw Butch. Butch was one of the people who had picked on him for most of his life. He was looking scared shitless right now, which put a smile on Cornelu's face. He walked by unnoticed, or at least mostly unnoticed. Just as he turned a corner he heard Butch shouting something behind him that sounded like a plea for help. He did not catch what it was and just kept going, killing roaches with his bat as he went.

As he walked he passed his father's health center. He decided to stop to empty it of any useful medicine. He swept the main supply from the locker it was in and moved on, which gave him some more med-x and a few more powerful drugs like psycho, buffout and mentats. There were a lot less stimpacks and radiation medicine than usual and for a second he wondered why. James had probably taken most of that with him because he knew he was leaving the Vault. Anger at his father for leaving him behind burned through him and he pushed on, leaving the office behind.

He was in a hallway that joined the large room that connected to the entrance area when he heard the first human voice and he immediately raised his bat in preparation. After a second, though, he heard another voice, louder than the first one. They seemed to be arguing. He moved forward slowly and peered out of the doorway that linked the hallway he was in with the large bottom room of the atrium and saw two other vault dwellers. They seamed to be arguing about leaving the vault. Then the man ran over to another hallway and disappeared into it. He heard three shots fired and someone fell to the floor. The woman ran after him and the sounds repeated.

Cornelu put the thick end of his bat into his pack so that it would not fall out and drew his 10mm. He needed more ammo and he knew that the man or men that had shot those people had some. Also, anger _might_ have had a small part to play in his decision as well. Silently, he snuck around so that he was just around the corner that led into the hall the gunmen were in and planned his attack. He would shot once at however many there were to make them flinch and then concentrate on them one at a time until he ran out of ammo. He hoped that he would be able it get off an entire clip before they started shooting back. If there were more than three people with guns than he was done for.

So he knew what he was going to do, but _how _was he going to do it? He straightened his arm and set himself into a shooting stance. He immediately felt off. He thought about how people in old pre-war pictures looked when they held guns. He looked down and saw that his feet formed a line that was perpendicular to the barrel of the 10mm. He put his left foot forward and shifted his feet, then felt his body kind of 'click.' It might not be perfect, but his stance was much better now. He also thought that he should tighten his muscles when he shot so the recoil did not cause him to pause. That would probably be fatal for him, as a pause would give the other men time to shoot. Lastly he put the other two clips into the pouch on the side of the backpack that he kept the pistol in so he could quickly draw one and reload.

Without giving himself time to talk himself out of it he stepped halfway around the corner. A part of his brain told him there was three and that they were about ten feet away but he was focusing on the first shot. His right arm was steady as he sighted down the barrel, aimed at the chest of the man on the far right. He fired and it felt like he had just tried to stop an oncoming train with his right arm. He ignored the pain however, if he didn't he would die, and focused on the middle person. He shot again and moved on. The third shot's recoil finnaly overpowered his rigid muscles and during the split second that he righted the gun he noticed red on the first man's chest. He was not a threat for at least a few seconds so Cornelu let off three shots at the middle person. Half of his clip was gone and his arm hurt immensely now, enough that not even the threat of death was enough to overcome the pain anymore.

As he allowed another moment's pause to steady his gun he searched for any sign of a counter attack. The man on the right was now leaning against the wall of the hallway, his gun on the ground. The middle man had just received a shot to the head (Cornelu had been aiming for his chest but he would take what he could get). A small motion from the far left attracted his attention. It was the third man, recovering from cringing at the sudden onslaught of lead. He raised his arm and was almost leveled when Cornelu let his seventh bullet fly and hit. They were all wounded so that they would not be shooting back so he ran up to them, jumping over the bodies of the civilians that had been shot, and executed the two still living gunmen with a single shot to the head of each. He did not have any problems with looting their corpses; they were not humans at all. They were disgusting animals that could kill two innocent, unarmed civilians that were trying to save themselves. They collectivly had three 10mm pistols and another forty-odd rounds for them. He left their nightsticks and stripped any pieces of armor that were not bloodstained from them. He had more than a full set now and even a chest plate strapped to his torso, so with the extras he just tied to any exposed part of himself that he could find. One of the sick animals had his helmet, a hardened cap with a clear plastic face guard, dislodged during the fight and so it was not covered in brainmatter like the others. Cornelu donned it.

After ignoring the door that the goons had been guarding, he knew it would be locked, he made his way to the Overseer's office. As he went through one of the passageways, however, he heard a familiar voice, Amata's. The quick peak that he took through the doorway told him everyone in the room except Amata had their back to him and from what he could see of her face Amata was in pretty bad shape. Quickly, he ran in, came up behind one of the two men that were carrying weapons and blew his head off. The other went down from another headshot, this one from a few feet away so his head did not explode like the first's. Amata looked horrified and shouted, "NO!" when Cornelu turned the gun to the only other person in the room, her father.

"Amata, what happened to you? How did you get hurt?" he asked.

"Um… they, uh… they beat me."

It took an incredible amount of restraint to keep from pulling the trigger then and there. Cornelu's anger and hate of the man that his gun was pointed at were whispering into his mind, _Do it. Shoot him. Take the life of the man that hurt the girl you lust for._

He took a slow, deep breath and went to stand between Amata and her father. "So what should I do with him? I'm not letting this go unpunished."

"Well you can't kill him, he's my dad!"

The Overseer spoke for the first time since Cornelu entered the room, "You are not my daughter. You put your own feelings over the safety of the Vault and it's residents." His voice was perfectly even.

"If you want to live then you will shut the fuck up," Cornelu said through clenched teeth. Now Anger and Hate were speaking clearly in his mind, not whispering, and it was hard to ignore them. _Kill him. Kill him. Kill him. Kill him._

Amata spoke and her tone of voice reminded him that he would be hurting her if he killed her father. "How could you say that? How could you put your crazy superfluous obsession over me? You know it is relatively safe outside so why are you making such a big deal out of this?" This piece of information was surprising.

"It is not safe out there. It may not be so irradiated that you would die instantly like we thought but it is still dangerous."

"Yes, but it is habitable! It is possible to live out there! That is all you really need!" She was shouting now.

"I will not allow anyone else to leave this Vault," He said, showing a little emotion for the first time. It seemed that was all he cared about.

"Well you are not exactly in a position to stop me from leaving," Cornelu said. Anger and Hate overpowered him then and it took every ounce of self-control to not shoot, but he did punch him squarely in the face. The overseer fell to the floor, unconscious. Cornelu pulled another stim from his pocket and started setting the two fingers he had just broken, ignoring the pain. Then he used the stim and felt his fingers heal. He turned to Amata, but she wasn't there. A sting of rejection bothered him for a second but he shrugged it off, it was not the first time he had felt it and he had other things to foucus on. He would be leaving to never see her again so he would have to forget her sooner or later. Now would be best, so he did. He tried his best to forget about Amata.

As he advanced the hallway cut off with a locked door that he could not hack because it did not have a terminal. He backtracked and found an open door. When he walked in he saw Jonas lying on the floor. The large puddle of blood around his body was a pretty good indicator that he was dead so Cornelu did not try to revive him. He did not search his body either, it felt _wrong_, so he just continued to the next room without ever knowing about the message in the pocket of the bloodstained lab coat.

The door to the next room, the Overseer's office, was locked but he used the key Amata had given him. He saw some lockers and went to search them. He found 120 10mm bullets, three stimpacks and some mentats. He then hacked the Overseer's terminal, opened the secret tunnel under his desk and followed it out. When he reached a large cog-like door he went to the controls and opened it.

"Oh my god, you actually did it," Amata said as she ran through a door behind him.

"Yeah, I did. I did not expect you to see me off though."

"I'm sorry this happened but you have to go now, someone will come searching for me soon. Bye," she said, not coldly but it was apparent that him leaving was not the worst of her troubles. This made him feel a little more depressed and lonely, but he tried not to let it bother him. Now that he was not directly faced with the threat of death, however, it was harder to just shrug off. With a quick, "Bye," he left the Vault and Amata behind, forever in his past.

When he pushed open the wooden door that sealed the earthen tunnel to the Vault he noticed that it was not very bright outside, but he could still see. From what he had read off of the computers he understood the concepts of day and night so he supposed it was somewhere in-between, either dawn or dusk.

But he lost his train of thought when a more powerful one hit him, _I'm outside of the Vault! I don't have to listen to anyone anymore, either. I can do what ever I want._ With the thought was a strange sense of relief. He liked it. He was _free_.


	8. 2: Ch 2: I'm Free

AN/ Explicit content. Ye' be warned. It takes talent to start with the theme of a great song like the one quoted above and pervert it in the way I did.

* * *

Chapter 2: "I'm Free" or "Anyway, Anyhow, Anywhere," both by The Who

Cornelu was still overcome with his freedom as he started walking. He did not think about where he was going yet, he just started walking. He did not look very far ahead of him, growing up in the vault you never had to look more than ten feet ahead of yourself. So he walked down the hill that the vault was built into and there was immediately a small, destroyed town. He noticed it was composed of intact, boarded up houses or burned frames that offered no protection. And he noticed that the light was getting fainter, so night was descending.

He looked in an old mail dropbox and found two objects that looked like old medicine containers, just sitting there. He could not tell what medicine it was, the labels had been worn off and there were none like these in the Vault, so he just put them in his pack and walked on.

Then he heard something behind him and turned. He saw a floating, round mechanical thing gliding towards him. He whipped the 10mm out of its holster on his pack and aimed. He did not shoot, he was not sure if it was hostile, but he did not lower his aim either. It seemed to be emanating a message, but he did not pay any attention to that. It glided by and then down the road in the direction he had been going. As he watched it float out of shooting distance his eyes followed it. It was the first time he had ever really looked up, ahead for any distance. His eyes left the strange robot and followed the road up to where he saw a large, rusting metal structure that looked very foreboding and intimidating in the dimming light.

He turned around and started walking the other way. He did not know what that metal thing was and was not planning on finding out anytime soon. Behind him the road turned to the south and up the hill the Vault was in. He decided to follow the short cliff at the bottom of the hill to the north instead of the road. The road was more likely to bring him to people and he was still feeling the freedom of having no one to answer or listen to. More people was the last thing he wanted.

Just as he though of that he realized he should be looking for his dad, the only person that he knew that was out here in this Wasteland. He wondered where his dad would have gone once he left the Vault. He expected to find the vault doctor nearby, so he searched around the little town's ruins. He made sure he stayed out of sight of the ominous wall of metal up the road a few hundred feet as much as possible._  
_

He was getting tired so he looked for a place to sleep while also looking for his father. One of the houses would be nice but it would take a while to get the boards off of one of the doors. As he walked on he found a ranch-style house that had an unbarred entrance. It seemed like a good place to stop, and Dad would probably have gone there.

When he walked in, however, he noticed that it was occupied. And not by Dad. The door he used, which happened to be the house's back door, opened to a small bedroom and a rather attractive woman with what looked like dyed-blond hair was lying on the bed, _naked. _She had her hand in a place that he had never seen before and there was a very shocked look on her face. She reached for a small pistol on the bedside table but his 10mm was out and pointed at her before she could even get close. Even the nervous fumbling caused by this sudden situation didn't give the woman enough time to arm herself.

After a moments pause she said, "Well, either kill me, rape me or leave so I can finish what I was doing."

The statement was so blunt that it took him by surprise. The rape option was very appealing at the moment. And there was probably no law system if the desolate wasteland he had seen was anything to go by, so he would get away with it. He could get away with anything he wanted to do now._ No! _He thought to himself, _I am not going to do that to an innocent, _he stopped for a second at that, based on what she had been doing she was not innocent, _still, I am not going to do that to her. It is wrong._

"I am not going to rape you, and I will only kill you if you try to kill me. I was just coming in to see if there was a safe place to sleep and to look for some food."

"Well, I think this is a safe place to sleep," she said as she brushed the bed next to her and batted her eyes. Immediately he knew she was trying to seduce him so that she could kill him but it was still tempting. He would at least die happy.

"No, I don't think that would be safe at all." That was as honest as anything could get. She smiled evilly at that. "In more ways than one," he added, looking down lower.

"I'm hungry, are you? Do you want something to eat?" as she said that her left hand, which had not moved from that one place, made a small circular motion._ God this woman is going to drive me insane. _She noticed his hesitation and started to get up, keeping a good distance from the table that had the gun on it. She walked slowly over to a closet in the corner, picking up something that looked like a child's toy off of a table as she went.

"This is where I keep most of my food. Opps!" she dropped the toy then and reached down slowly to pick it up, her backside high in the air. "My name is Silver, by the way," she said, upside down and looking at him from between her legs. Very slowly she straightened and opened one of the closet's two doors. As she placed the toy on a shelf and reached for the food inside with her left hand, her right hand crept around the closet's other door and out of sight. Suddenly she twirled around and Cornelu fired several times. Before she could get lined up a bullet into entered her skull just above her right eye.

As she fell to the floor another small pistol just like the one on the bedside table fell with her, still clenched in her right hand. And all he could think was, _what a waste, _as he looked at the beauty that lay in a crumpled heap in front of the open closet. _Well, now I have a place to sleep. _He wondered what he should do with the body, and eventually decided to leave it where it was. It made good decoration, and he would not be around long enough for it to stink too badly.

He searched the house. In the pile of clothes by the bed he found a cloth sack filled with a few hundred bottle caps. He did not know what they were for but if they were valuable enough to hide then he would take them. Also, he collected all of the food and put it in a small pile. While searching he found several more doses of one of the medicines that he had found earlier. Apparently the woman had had an allergy or medical condition of some sort. When he was done he lay down on the bed and tried to sleep. The wet spot in the middle of the bed did not help calm his roused mind, and other parts of him, that had been woken and agitated by the very stimulating evening he had experienced. He eventually succumbed to very pleasant dreams.

* * *

When Cornelu woke up incredibly early and could not fall back to sleep, he looked over everything he had and made a mental note of it all. He had: four 10mm pistols of varying condition, around one-hundred thirty 10mm rounds either in loose in small cardboard boxes or loaded into magazines of twelve, a baseball bat that was already starting to splinter so it would not last long, enough food for maybe three weeks if carefully rationed, water that would last a few days, fourteen stimpacks, one dose of med-X, six doses of unidentified medicine, a few hundred bottle caps in a bag. On him he wore a standard blue Vault 101 jumpsuit and had a few pieces of armor from the security guards strapped to him. He took the BB gun and BBs and set them down on the bedside table with the pistol that the woman had had. There was no intention of taking either of them. The BB gun was not lethal to anything except redroaches and the pistol was of a very small caliber and had only a few bullets, so it was not worth carrying it.

These sacrifices made room for the food he found in the house. Very soon he would need someone or something to carry things for him. He remembered Box, a small square robot about one cubic foot in volume he had once built back in the Vault. It would perfect, although a _bigger _one might be more useful. He thought about how he could make it but the original had been built small, it would only support so much. If he was going to create something large enough he would need to start from scratch. It was very unlikely that he would be able to find the parts to make an exact replica of Box, just larger, so he would need to write another transportation script that took the new parts into account. To do that, he would need a computer so that he could write the script. With no clue where to go to find one of those or a power source to use one in the Wasteland.

Before he even tired to start work on the modified Box, however, he needed to orient himself in the Wasteland he found himself in. He left his pack behind, only taking two of his 10mms and the ammo, and set about trying to find out where he was. He went around the base of the hill the way he had come the night before. He kept going until the short cliff gradually turned into a hill he could climb. It was very close to the path he had taken going down the hill and he soon saw the Vault door. Anger and Hate welled up inside of him as he remembered how Amata had never returned his affections. _What happened to_ _happily ever after? Why don't I get one of those? _He threw a rock hard at the wooden door. It was kind of flat with a sharp edge that drove into the wood several inches. He must have thrown it harder than he thought. Pushing his emotions back down inside him, he continued on up the hill.

He had to scale the last twenty feet because it changed from steep hill to shear rock cliff. When he pulled himself over the edge he found himself on a rocky summit about sixty feet above the surrounding land. From here he could see quite a distance and he crouched so that he would not be as visible up on the top of the hill. He first looked east, out towards the horizon. Again, it felt unusual to tilted his head up for anything. It was another thing that resulted from living in tunnels for his whole life; he had never needed to look up. When he finally did he saw the bottoms of sick-looking yellow and orange clouds that gradually darkened to a maroon red at the horizon. He felt something tense in the air, like it expected something great to happen any second now. The clouds did not extend far in front of him, they ended just past what looked like the main part of a run-down metropolis, so the horizon was where the hazy, turquoise sky touched the brownish-tan ground in the distance. As he looked past the clouds to that horizon a light appeared out of the ground and slowly started rising into the sky. The pollution in the air thickened it enough that he could look right at the light and track its progress without straining his eyes much. When it broke its contact with the ground a few minutes later he looked away. With every inch higher into the sky that it went it seemed to strengthen, as if there was less in the air between it and him to dilute its rays.

He realized that he was watching his first sunrise, marred as it was by the ghastly destruction around him but magnificent just the same.


	9. 2: Ch 3: Gone Forever

Chapter 3: "Gone Forever" or "On My Own" both by Three Days Grace

In that moment, Cornelu truly believed what he had thought of those in the Vault. Since his attempted murder and subsequent exile he ad been trying to rationalize a hate for everyone in the pre-war shelter. Now he realized the extent of... of almost dehumanization that the isolation in the Vault had caused.

_Wow,_ Cornelu thought, _I can't believe the people in the Vault will never get to see this. Ha, take _that_ Amata! This is so much better than life in that hole and you will never even know it. _In hindsight he could see how he had clung so much to Amata, and how he did not need her. He noticed how much better he felt now that she was gone. Now he could focus on what was in front of him instead of wondering how he could impress her or things like that. Being in this hellish, life-or-death situation brought a clarity to his mind that felt liberating and empowering.

When he returned to the world outside of his own mind he started scanning eastward, having to raise a hand to protect his eyes from the now powerful sun, and went clockwise, noting anything that might help him stay alive or find his dad. Under him, to the east, the ruins of the small town he had first visited glinted where anything glass or chrome reflected the sun's rays. To the right of the town and farther south was that strange metal wall that still looked dangerous, more so now that he could see all of the metal was heavily rusted and corroded, making it absorb the light instead of reflecting it which added to its look of malevolence. Running southeast past the foreboding wall was a raised highway. Turning farther he saw that to the south and west were hills and the few man-made parts of the landscape were almost obliterated, leaving little evidence behind that man had ever been there at all. It seamed a part of the highway that ran by the metal wall had fallen on his hill and stuck up out of it, creating a flat angled surface that jutted a few feet over his head. He decided to get a better look at what lay to the West and North from the superior vantage point it created.

He walked up the sloped asphalt and as he was getting to the top the first thing he saw over the jagged edge was an encampment of very unfriendly looking people built on top of the still standing parts of the highway that reached out over a river that flowed to his right. He flung himself to the floor and crawled towards the sun until he was in the concrete guardrail's shadow. Then he peaked over the edge and assessed the position's defenses. The barricades were not like the solid metal wall of the other settlement, far from it. They were just a few sandbag walls and a truck that the people used as cover. The highway was sloped and he could not see over the crest to tell if there were more ramparts built along it.

The people wore scraps of leather and metal that did not offer much protection and was far from modest. One woman had nothing but a four-inch diameter metal dish covering each breast. They were not armed well, two of them did not even have guns, only wooden boards with nails in them, and they looked very disorganized. He wished for a longer-ranged weapon, with one he could easily destroy this pitiful group of armed idiots. It would probably be easier than killing radroaches. But he did not have anything other than two 10mm pistols, which were not long range, and he had limited ammo. He was not going to attempt a suicide mission, so he went back to the part of the hill were he had watched the sun rise and scanned as much as he could from there.

He noticed there was a large ruined building with a sing in front of it that said Springvale Elementary. It was barely one hundred feet from the ranch house he had slept in and it looked inhabited by the same type of people that held the highway. Immediately after this discovery was made he decided to abandon that house. He could not go north as there was the band of thugs that way. He was not going to go south as there was that scary metal place that he would have to pass, so that left east or west. East looked the most promising to him as that led to a large metropolis, D.C. he though it had been called before the war. Pre-war geography had been touched on in the Vault, but not much. So that was where he was headed.

He went back down the hill and finished packing everything. Leaving the ranch house behind for good, he worked his way south through the ruined town until he was far enough from the school to not be seen. Then he turned east and started snaking his way through the rough terrain of the Wasteland. While walking he tried to keep an eye out for danger, but it was hard as he had to look at the ground most of the time to keep from stumbling on debris or accidentally stepping in puddles of radioactive mud.

Soon that uniquely intact building came into view. He could only see two sides of the building and what he could see did not tell him anything about it other than it was roughly square. There was also a bridge that crossed the river near the building. He figured he could go north now if he wanted to, and now that he thought about it if there were things out here that wanted to harm him there would be _more_ things in the city that would want to harm him. He was curious about the building however and decided that he would check it out before he moved on.

As he was getting to the corner that blocked off his view of the parking lot and front entrance he heard gunfire. Looking around, he did not see bullets digging chunks into the concrete wall or the asphalt under him so he assumed it was not aimed at him, but it was still very close. Then the sound of some sort of energy discharge reached his ears.

He took a peak around the corner and saw an older looking man and three robots attacking two other people. Two of the robots were floating and one was walking, but the two that were floating were different from each other, one had three arms and the other was a metal ball similar to the one that had passed him the day before emanating a message. The two people that were losing looked like the kind of unorganized people that had been in the school and guarding the highway. It was over rather quickly and the man started across the parking lot toward where Cornelu was. _I'm not sure I can trust this guy, he is very well defended with three… wait, where did the other robot go? _The man was now approaching with only two robots, one was floating, it looked like it could barely hold itself up, and one was walking awkwardly.

If he did not move soon the man was going to see him and probably kill him. He needed to either run or make his presence known now and hope the man decided not to kill him. It was the worse of the two choices but he shouted, "HAY, I'm around the corner and I mean no harm. Don't shoot me."

A few seconds later he received the reply, "Are you a raider?"

"No," he answered. He had no idea what a raider was, he suspected it might mean somthing more than 'one who raids,' but that meant he couldn't be one, right?

"Come around the corner slowly. I won't shoot you if you don't shoot at me. Oh, and let me point out the shooting at me would be suicide." Cornelu turned so that his face was to the wall and, with his right hand still clenched around the grip of a 10mm, stuck his left arm out past the corner and into the mans line of fire. Nothing happened.

After a few seconds he poked his head out. He saw the man standing with one robot on each side of him, completely relaxed with his gun slung over his back and he was smiling, not menacingly but as if he was trying not to laugh. The man was wearing a greenish armor that was composed of plates of a presumably bulletproof material. Cornelu could hear a slight, almost unnoticeable humming in the air. That did not deter him however, and with his right arm close to his side he fully revealed himself.

"Put the gun away son, you have nothing to fear from me." Cornelu slowly reached back and put the gun in its holster. As soon as he did the humming that he had noticed stopped. "Now, would you like to trade?"

"Um, sure, but I don't think I have much you want." He pulled his pack off of his back and set it down, realizing too late that he had just disarmed himself. He shot a quick glance at the trader but he was still standing there with no sign of aggression at all. Cornelu started searching through his pack for things that he did not need. He had left most of the things he did not need back at the ranch house.

He looked up at the man again and said, "How about I take a look at what you have and see if there is anything I might want to trade _for._" The man took out a few things from his pack that were mostly junk and laid them on the ground in between them.

"If you don't have any caps then maybe you could pay me with a service. My bot here has been a little off for a while now. If you have the ability to fix it then we can make a deal." The word _caps _had stuck in Cornelu's mind for a few seconds. It seemed like the man had used _caps_ where the word _money_ would usually be used._ I think I know why that woman had a bag full of bottle caps on her. They are used as money now. _That meant he had a large amount of money on him that he could spend.

"Hello! Anyone home?" The sound of the man yelling at him broke into his reverie.

"What? Oh, yes, um, I'm here. I just figured something out and got caught up in the ideas that followed it."

"What was it that you figured out?" the man asked curiously.

"That bottle caps are used for money now."

"_Now? _Bottle caps have always been the currency of the Wasteland. What is wrong with you, you just crawl out of a Vault or something?"

"Um, yes, I did," he answered awkwardly.

"Oh, well then, sorry kid. I was wondering where you got that wrist computer and the fancy, new-looking armor. It probably has a number on the back, doesn't it?" Cornelu turned around slightly and showed his back, he was sure now that the man was not a threat. "Yep, look at that. 101. Tell you what; I have another outfit of this combat armor that has been weighing me down. I will trade it to you for that Vault suit you have on."

It took Cornelu a moment to respond to that. "You want this piece of crap? Why?"

"Because I happen to know someone who will pay a hefty sum for that outfit. She likes pre-war stuff and she likes Vault stuff, so that suit would do nicely. My other offer about you fixing the robot still stands to. I'm sure we can work out a deal for that as well."

Cornelu thought about the trades for a few seconds. The suit transaction looked very sketchy. The combat armor was much better than his current apparel. All he had was cloth with pieces of hard plastic strapped to various body parts. He wasn't even sure it was truly bullet proof. If the man was willing to trade something so valuable for this then he must be able to get a _lot _of money for it somewhere else. That meant that if he could find the woman that liked this stuff he could get all of that money and cut out the middleman. The problem was, he did not who or where that woman was, the man had not said. He had probably made sure not to give any hints so that Cornelu could not cut him out of the arrangement, like he had just been planning to do. So all he could do was accept the deal or demand more.

He looked over the pile of random junk, scouring it for anything useful that he could include in the deal. He saw two 10mms that had strange cylinders attached to the barrels, a few sealed glass-and-metal containers, three large caliber bullets that would not fit in any gun he could think of, seventeen 10mm rounds and a few dozen bullets that were of the same type as the pistol he had seen back at the ranch house. Other than that he saw several assorted containers of cigarettes, a motorcycle helmet with its clear plastic visor still attached, a hot plate, a baseball glove, two broken harmonicas, a wrench, a hammer, some rusted metal silverware, a black leather belt, half a cow's skull, some burned pages from a book, some surprisingly good condition coffee cups, surgical tubing, a clipboard and some wonderglue with bits of scrap metal mixed into the jumble.

"What is this?" Cornelu asked, motioning to the modified 10mm handguns.

"That is a silencer. Here, look," He picked up the weapon and loaded one of the bullets into the chamber. Then he aimed at the river and fired. The splash the bullet made in the water could easily be seen but there was almost no sound involved, just a small _pht_.

"Hmm. Why would you sell such a potentially useful weapon?"

"Because I already have one," he said as he whipped a third of the strange firearms from out of nowhere.

"Umm, do you have any caps?" Cornelu asked uncomfortably, more than a little intimidated now._ Holy shit,_ he thought in exasperation, _this guy knows what the hell he's doing._

"Maybe," was the answer.

"Okay, if you give me 50 caps, the combat armor, the two silenced 10mms, that helmet, the belt, the glue, all of the 10mm rounds and some of the more interesting bits of scrap metal I will repair your robot and give you this armor."

"Deal," the man said immediately, making Cornelu think he had not asked for enough. "Here is how we do it, in this order. I give you the combat armor, you fix the bot and give me the helmet you are wearing for this white motorcycle one. Then you go change into the combat armor and bring back the Vault suit and give that to me. When that is done I give you the caps and the other items. This way if you decide to take off I still get something out of the deal."

"I accept. The armor?" Cornelu asker with his hand stretched out. The man went over to the walking robot, removed a set of worn, armored combat attire from a small container on its back and placed them in Cornelu's outstretched hand. He was surprised at how heavy it was, and that it was almost as good condition as the armor that the man was wearing. He had been expecting much worse. Then he went over to the robot and looked it over. The arm on the left, the one that was intended to spit flames, was hanging uselessly and the thruster under that arm was only firing weakly. He opened a panel on the spherical hull of the robot.

Just as the Robot started to say, "Sir, I really do not think this man should be messing with…" Cornelu hit a small button and caught the robot as it fell, setting it gently on the ground. Then he looked in more intently trying to find the source of the problem. He noticed that the wires and tubes connecting everything had been melted and new ones had been used to replace them.

"Yeah, I did the best I could to fix him already but the connections are not the problem," the man said, looking in over Cornelu's shoulder but mainly trying to stay out of the way.

"Your right, the problem is this console," Cornelu pointed at a circuit board that had been seared slightly. "It is not damaged, but the intense heat wiped it and it needs to be reprogrammed. If I had a computer this would be so much easier."

"Well, on the back the bot has a small access screen that you can access the bot's processor and memory but it does not connect to the parts that control movement."

"_Perfect! _That is fine, I can make the connections myself. God, I wish I could use this for myself though; it is the one thing I need to make something I've wanted to make for a while that I can't find on my own. This will take about ten minutes." He wired the screen to the malfunctioning console and started copying the codes from the other arms and pasting them into the blank console, reformatting here and there due to the different parts on the arms. It took longer than expected because the access screen was tiny and there was only a simple key system, not a full keyboard like he was used to, but the work was simple in comparison to coming up with a completely new script.

"Done, I will be back in a second," Cornelu said as he took his helmet off, setting it on the ground as he went. He picked up his pack and his new combat armor and left to swap clothes, scanning the area so that he would spot anything that might be trying to catch him with his pants down. The armor was a little big on him, and it like most clothes it was difficult to fit it around his Pip-Boy, but it made up for that with the thick plates of hard material that protected the front, back, arms, legs and shoulders. If he wound up sliding down a hill on his back again, it might slow him down but it would not leave him incapacitated from a huge scrape on his back. It looked outdated compared to the power armor he had seen in the pre-war films, but Cornelu was happy with the trade-up. The pathetic excuse for armor that he had been wearing did not cover him very fully and he did not think the chest plate could even stop a 10mm round, let along something more powerful like the three-inch long bullets he had seen in the collection of junk. He returned a few moments later and presented the Vault suit to the man.

"Here you are. So, where did the other robot go? Earlier there were three fighting with you but now there are only two."

"Oh, that wasn't mine," the man explained as he gave the prearranged items to Cornelu, "that was an Enclave eyebot that just happened to be near me at the time. They don't hurt anyone unless provoked and when the Raiders shot at me and missed it took the gunfire in its direction as provocation and returned fire. I was just a bystander to it."

"So the Enclave are good?" he asked, his mind processing the new information while his body put the items where they belonged; either in his pack, in one of the holsters at his side or, in the case of the helmet, on his head.

"Oh no. You see, the point of the eyebots is to spread word that the Enclave are good and that everyone should side with them, but it is a little counteracted by the fact that they shoot anything that gets near them, including people that are trying to help. They are just a bunch of high-tech assholes. If you ever see figures in shiny black power armor on the horizon, run as fast as you can in the other direction.

"Well, it looks like it is time for me to go, been here too long anyway. Hopefully I will see you sometime in the future." With that the man started walking away, the way Cornelu had come.

The ramshackle groups along that path came to his mind and suddenly the term 'raider' made sense. He shouted after the man, "Stay away from the school and the highway over the river. They are raider camps!" He heard something that sounded like "Thanks," but the wind carried the sound away and he could not tell for sure. He turned toward the building for the first time and read the sign over the door. It read "Super-Duper Mart" in large, fancy letters. He was glad he had not passed it by, there was bound to be useful stuff in it. He started forward, ready for his first major looting trip.


	10. 2: Ch 4: Sneaking

Chapter 4: Sneaking

Cornelu walked closer to the door of the Super-Duper Mart and noticed a Nuka-Cola machine to his left. There was another one farther down the wall and he emptied them, finding five bottles of very flat Nuka-Cola and one bottle of Quantum.

He entered the building through the door that was farthest north, not for any reason particularly. Being as silent as he could, he walked forward and surveyed the room. There was a small entrance area with nothing but rubble in it and then another doorway. There was no sign of habitation that he could detect but he stood next to the doorway and peered through it, keeping everything except a small portion of his head out of sight. After a few seconds he heard movement from between the aisles almost directly in front of the entrance. He kept perfectly still so that if the person looked in his direction they would not notice any movement. As the person came into view he saw it was a male raider and he did not have a gun, just a knife strapped to his belt. The raider walked around the aisles to Cornelu's right and turned when he reached the wall.

Just to the right of the doorway Cornelu was using as cover was a counter that opened to a work area for the long-ago employees of the Super-Duper Mart. It would be perfect for defense in case of a firefight and he might be able to find something useful in there. He leaned out and around the doorway to get a better look and saw that it was unguarded.

_Wow, they are just as bad at defending as the raiders on the bridge were. Maybe it is a job requirement. _It had been a few minutes now since the man had walked by and he prepared to make sprint for he counter and was about to run when he heard another person coming up between the aisles again. He quickly hid just inside the doorway, this time not even chancing to look as the person passed. When he could hear that the person was just rounding the last corner he took a peak and saw that it was the same person. _So they are patrolling? Maybe they are not that stupid after all._

He knew he had a few minutes before the man passed again so he glanced again to make sure there was no one in sight and carefully walked over to the counter, making sure his new Combat armor did not make any noise. He slipped over and then crouched behind the service counter. He crawled along and noticed two boxes sticking partway out of cupboards near the floor. One was locked but he fiddled with the catch and it opened without much trouble. He found a large number of glass and metal vials with 'energy cell' stenciled on them in both of the containers. _This might even be the armory for this little group of raiders. That would be perfect!_

He heard the raider walk by again and he popped his head up over the counter to see if there was anyone else who might see him. In the gloom of the Mart he could see a hazy, far-off figure that looked like it was walking on top of the rows of shelves. They would not see him, so he searched some more. He immediately noticed a pistol that looked like some sort of energy weapon. There was also more ammo and a water bottle filled with a murky tan liquid that he though was water. On the last counter were another energy pistol and even more ammo for them.

There were three shelves that took up one corner and a refrigerator was against the far wall but that was everything it the room. He had hoped that he would find racks of assault rifles like the one that the old man had had outside. That would be a nice upgrade. Then he remembered how the one raider on patrol that he had seen had only a knife to fight with. _They probably don't have enough guns to need an armory of any size, _he thought.

With nothing else to look through he started planning how he was going to proceed through the rest of the building. It held and unknown amount of raiders and at least some of them were poorly equipped. The one that was patrolling the tops of the shelves was probably the main lookout and if Cornelu could kill her then he would be able to pick the others off one by one without much chance of being detected. If he were detected, however, he would need as much of his firepower accessible as possible.

To try and solve this problem he took out all everything that he would need in a fight; ammo, guns, stims, and laid them on the floor, leaving only the unknown drugs and the baseball bat where they were. For storage he put his pack in one of the metal boxes on the bottom of the back most shelf. Then he sat down in front of the collection of assorted equipment. He inspected one of the unidentified pistols more closely and saw writing on the bottom of the stock. He squinted at it but the only this he could discern from the faded symbols were the letters _ser, p _and _o. _He wondered what it could mean.

After a few seconds he gave up and got himself back on track. His new armor had extra pockets just about everywhere so he started filling them with the ammo and stims. He left the pockets on his hips and upper legs empty, as they would be the best place for the guns. Then he took the energy pistol that looked less scuffed and worn and placed it in the pocket on his left hip. One of the silenced 10mms he put on his right. He put two of the normal 10mms in pockets on his legs just above his knees. The more worse off weapons that he thought might jam like the 10mm had before he hid with his bag.

He planned on using the silenced 10mm pistols so he carried the second one, the others were just in case there was a huge firefight, which he was aiming on avoiding. His plan was simply to get close enough to line up a head shot and let the silenced 10mm take care of the rest. He was sure he could do it, it was just like playing hid-and-seek, which he had always been the best at. It was just that if he was caught instead of loosing a kid's game he would be brutally killed.

The raider had walked by six or seven times while he was looting and organizing. When Cornelu was ready he waited for the patrol to go by once more, then he checked to see if the coast was clear and, silently as he could, hopped back over the service counter. He crept over to a corner where he knew the raider with the knife was going to walk by and waited. Less than a minute later he heard footsteps and the raider walked around the corner, not two feet in from of him. Two shots to the head and the man started to fall. Cornelu wanted to make as little sound as possible so he caught the body as best he could and placed it on the ground.

Quickly, Cornelu moved forward to a small area that had been cleared in the shelves. There was a path to get on top of the few shelves that were still standing and he climbed halfway up to see if there was any weakness in the patrol of the raider that walked around up there. After several minutes he had the route memorized. He waited until the woman was looking away before he slowly crept around to the left, near the front of the store. He pressed himself face first against the end of a row of shelves so that the woman would not see him.

A few minutes later he heard her walking on top of the shelves, just like he knew she would. She stopped almost directly on top of him and watched for a moment before turning around and starting the walk back. Just as she was turning he took a step to his right, aimed up at her head and fired. She fell almost directly down and her body stayed on top of the shelves. This was good in that it did not make any noise but it was bad because if anyone went to check on her they would notice her body. There was nothing he could do about it so he just hurried up.

Cornelu went back past the two raiders he had already dealt with and circled the store counterclockwise, staying close to the outer wall. Past the shelves that took up most of the floorspace there was an open area around what used to be refrigerated display units. He saw three raiders, two were together in a room directly opposite where he had entered and stashed his stuff. The room had counters all the way around it like the first room and the other raider was in a similar but separate room receded into the store's back wall, limiting the visibility from inside it. The two were talking to each other and not looking his way. The third was pacing between looking out over the counter and looking at the only door in the room.

He sneaked across the open space, in view of the two raiders if they happened to glance his way, until he was just a few feet away from room the single one occupied. Cornelu waited until he could hear the man walking away from the counter and toward the door before he quietly climbed over the counter. He was now out of sight of the two Raiders and directly behind the one that was alone. He raised his arm and shot once, scattering bits of brain matter all over the wall.

Though lacking in racks of guns, Cornelu indeed found himself in an armory of some sort. He took the raider's assault rifle and slung it over his back. As far as he could tell it was the same as the one that the old man outside had carried. It sported only a clip and a half's worth of bullets but it was better than the handguns he had now if it came down to an all-out firefight. The rest of the room held even more than that and he found some more 10mm ammo, three grenades, two strange things that he thought were explosives but he wasn't sure how to use and a key for something

Then he moved down the hall that led out of the back of the room and peaked around the corner at the end. The hall turned left and led out into the main store area that he had just left, but there was a doorway leading to the room that the two other raiders were in as well. Seeing an opportunity, he decided the time for stealth was over. He was fairly certain that there were only a few other raiders in the building so the risk was minimal now. Swiftly, he made his way tot he doorway. Then he took two of the three grenades and pulled the pins at the same time. He waited two seconds and threw them into the room, trying to put one on each side of the pair of outlaws. He ducked back behind the wall and plugged his ears. Before he could, however, he heard someone say, "What the _Hell_ was…." before the world went muffled.

BOOM!

He waited a second and looked in the room. It was dusty from the explosion but he could tell that he had not missed by the splatters of fresh blood on the walls and the motionless bodies. Then Cornelu took the assault rifle off of his back and pointed it down the hall, where he hoped the last of however many raiders were left would come running from.

"Guys? What the fuck was that? Hello? Where did everybody go? Hello! Janna you better not pull this shit again or I'm gonna' beat the-" Just as the raider was starting to get pissed at his comrades for playing jokes on him he walked around the corner. He was halfway through a curse when half a dozen high-velocity projectiles entered his body and interrupted the life sustaining processes that his organs were carrying out. Cornelu waited a few moments to make sure he was completely alone before he started searching the bodies and the next room.

He found two bolt-action rifles and about forty rounds of ammo for them. He found a second assault riffle and about a hundred and twenty rounds of ammo for it in boxes in the room. There were a few more 10mm rounds, but not many, and there were a few mines that he left because he had no use for them. Then he found the most valuable item he could possibly think of. In the corner of the room, next to a door, was a powered and running _computer._

He was completely ecstatic. He could build and program a machine to carry his stuff now. He could possibly log into whatever remained of the network that it had been connected to when it was installed, even if that was a long shot. He could learn anything that the computer might have on it. He could document what happens to him so that if he died there would be a record of his accomplishments. There was so much he could do with a computer.

He was still caught up in the possibilities that his discovery presented when he heard a voice that sounded like it was being amplified over loudspeakers. "We're back, somebody open up the… hang on. Something ain't right here."

_Crap! _Cornelu thought to himself. _Okay, calm down and don't panic._

He picked up the mines that he had left behind earlier and set the first behind the body of the dead raider at the end of the hall so that it would be hard to see if someone entered from the main store area. Then he placed the second just inside the door of the room that he had thrown the grenades into. The third was placed in a pile of rubble in the hallway that led to the armory-like room he had found the assault rifle in, on the lone raider's corpse.

When he reached room that he was making his fortress he peeked out over the counter and did not see the raiders. He assumed they were checking the place where the energy pistols had been. He hoped they would not find his stuff, but that gave him some time so he hopped over the counter and set the last mine on the other side, placing a piece of newspaper over it to conceal it. The point of that was to blow anyone up if they tried to climb over the counter like he first had.

He hopped back over and noticed the strange presumably explosive device he had observed earlier. With all the thoughts of mines running through his head he realized when he looked again that it was a mine that had been made out of a lunchbox and some bottle caps. Reaching over the counter again he carefully placed one under the newspaper with the other mine. He was not sure one mine would be enough and he wanted to make sure no one made it over that counter alive. It was his weakest spot.

Then he heard the raiders coming up through the aisles and he quietly crouched behind the taller part of the counter, where it would be too difficult to just climb over. There was a large nonfunctional floor-cleaning machine about a foot and a half from the wall and he used it as cover. He pulled the assault rifles off of his back and slowly set one down in case he ran out of ammo for the first one. Then he set the last grenade down on the ground next to him, shouldered his gun, aimed over the machine at the door and waited.

In the already small room, with both entrances mined and in view, cover to hide behind and guns to shoot, he felt rather safe, in an anxious sort of way.

The group passed by his hiding place a few minutes later without setting off the first mine under the newspaper. There were at least three people, he could tell because they kept arguing about what to do. Then one of them, the leader probably, told the others to jump over the counters and search the rooms while he went down the hall and together they would flush anyone out. It surprised Cornelu that a raider would have such sense and he had some admiration for the man that was about to blow up. A second later he heard a faint beeping just like he expected to, but it was a little closer that he anticipated.

Suddenly, with a blinding flash and a blast of sound, the counter ten feet from him exploded, sending bits of concrete, wood and plastic ricocheting everywhere, including into the small space he had enclosed himself in. Realizing too late that, although he was well protected from gunfire, shrapnel could easily bounce around and hit him in his castle. His right arm and left shin suddenly hurt, but it was not as bad as the massive headache that was coming on. He could hear nothing but ringing for a few seconds and the first thing he heard was the leader of the raiders yelling, as if from very far away, "_Holy_ jumped-up dog shit. What the capital-F_ Fuck_ was that?"

His daze did not go away, but he tried to focus through it to try and not get killed. He heard a few more explosions of the other mines being tripped but they were not even close to the power that the first had been. In the back of his mind it registered that the raiders were probably dieing from those explosions, but he was too confused to use this information for anything useful, like throwing his grenade at the survivors to finish them off. A few minutes later two more raiders came through the hole in the counter that the explosion had made. He noticed that one of them was not dressed like a raider was usually dressed; he had some sort of leather armor on and he had a rather large gun, making him look tougher than the average raider.

They did not notice him crouching in a corner behind a bulky machine and he opened fire, taking the normal-looking one down in a second with a short spray. He then aimed at the second, stronger looking one and fired, but the man had already been warned and he jumped back over the remainder of the counter. Cornelu fired another burst just as the man was leaping to clear the remains of the counter, aiming for the man's chest. Of the several bullets fired, only one of the hot bits of lead grazed his neck, leaving a gash extremely close to the jugular vein. In an suddenly out-of-the-moment thought, with the disorientation, his lack of skill with the weapon and its rather poor accuracy, he wondered at the odds that he hit him at all.

The man gave a cry of pain and once out of sight dove behind a broken cooler. Cornelu recognized the voice as the one who had spoken to the other raiders with authority. Somehow, through his lingering confusion he remembered how the man had efficiently ordered the others around with sound planning that was very uncharacteristic of a raider. With a hint of his own plan forming in his head, he emerged from his position, walked over to peak out and see if the man was going to shoot at him and said, "I know you are severely wounded and I know you are the last one. Leave now and I won't kill you." He, by some means, made his voice sound older and more commanding, hoping to convince the raider that he was dangerous and should not be fought.

After a few moments of silence he heard, "Are you serious? You would just let me go?"

"Yes, as long as you don't come back with more people and try to kill me. I will be ready for you if you do so it really doesn't matter, but I don't want to have to waste my ammo." He saw the man's hand dart up out of cover and stay there for a second before darting back down. Then the man's head popped up for a quick glance through a pair of sunglasses before retreating. Cornelu laughed a quick, bitter burst at the reversal of roles and said, "I'm not going to hurt you, now go." The man stood up, keeping a hand on the long, scoped rifle he held and without ever looking away, and backed out of the store. Cornelu watch him leave and as soon as the doors were shut behind him he went to barricade them, tripping as he went from the aftereffects of his shell shock.

The raider leader had left through the door that he, Cornelu, had originally entered from. With the nearby cover it seamed to be the least defensible of the two entrances so he moved ruble and grocery carts in front of it until he was certain it was not possible for anyone to get in. Then he went to the other door and opened it. He checked to see if the raider he had spared was trying to ambush him, and when he was convinced it was safe he went inside.

He immediately went to the computer that he had seen before the second group of raiders had attacked. He hacked it in three minutes and was disappointed when the only function it had was to unlock the nearby door to a storeroom, which also opened with the key he had. He would definitely put it to much better use soon. He decided to check the locked room before he started rewiring things.

He heard the locking mechanism click and opened the door. He entered to find a room filled with shelves. He searched the shelves to the left for anything useful before noticing what was at the back of the room, just out of view from the door. On a counter was _another _computer, and wired to it was a full-sized, chrome, mechanical looking _thing. _It was cylindrical and shiny and it obviously had something to do with computers, but he did not have a clue what it was, and he had a feeling he was going to like finding out.


	11. 2: Ch 5: Construction

Chapter 5: "Construction"

Thinking back while he lay in his makeshift bed, Cornelu thought that the last month had been very busy.

The first night he had hacked the terminal that operated the shiny metallic _thing _and found that inside it had been a Protectron-class robot. After a quick rearrangement of directives he had identified himself to the robot and made his well being its top priority before setting it loose and going to bed.

He had spent five days building defenses in the store that was now his domicile and making said dwelling more efficient. He had decided to make the back room with the robot storage port his main living area as it had been the most easily defended, along with the fact the he could lock the door. He moved all of the food he could find in the store, which was enough to feed him for about a year, onto the shelves in the back room and set up various defensive positions along the counter that surrounded the lockable door by barricading most of it with the wooden doors from the restrooms and some of the metal shelves that made up the aisles. Only a few narrow gaps were left, just large enough to shot through but small enough that you could not climb through them.

The raiders had slept on ratty old mattresses that where set up in one of the restrooms. He had been about to move a few of these into the main room when he noticed that most of them where infested with small bugs that would probably bite. He found a bucket in a broom closet and used it to fill one of the old refrigeration units with irradiated water from the restroom sink. Then he had added half a box of Abroxo cleaner and threw three of the least worn mattresses into the toxic mix. The others he dragged outside and dumped them at the other end of the parking lot. While the mattresses soaked he cleaned his living space in the back room of debris and removed the broken shelves. While doing this he found several unopened Nuka-Cola bottles and stored them, with the others he had found, in a metal box near the robot storage unit.

While he cleaned the back room he had also found three ammunition boxes which had several dozen 5.56 rounds, two more grenades, a medical supply box that had a stimpack and some other chemicals in it and lots of little tidbits like a random dirty shirt here or a sharp lawnmower blade there. Life got substantially better when he found first one and then a second science-lab quality hotplate, so he was able to eat warm, cooked food after that.

To his great surprise, the most interesting thing he found was a miniaturized nuclear bomb. When he found that last item he had immediately froze, careful not to make any sudden movements that could set the bomb off. He had aimed the Geiger-counter that had been attached to his Pip-boy at the explosive, but it had been the normal background level of the Wasteland, which happened to be about eight times the normal level of pre-war times. After he had determined it was not about to go off at any moment, he had moved it out to the parking lot and placed it under a car that still had fuel in it. He had then rigged a detonator so that with the push of a button the bomb wound go off, along with the car. Before arming the nuclear trap he went back inside and made a sign that said, in large bold letters:

"If you wish to trade, holster you weapon and yell. If you attack this  
building the only mercy given will be a quick and painless death."

He then placed the sign against the car facing away from the store. Pleased with his handiwork, he had armed the trap and gone back inside.

After securing the store with various traps like the one with the nuke, though of a much smaller caliber, until he had been satisfied with his safety, he set on improving the 'brain' of the protectron he had found. It had been rather stupid compared to Andy, the Mr. Handy he had seen in the Vault, and it had been completely out-classed by the custom, finely tuned systems he had worked on in the Vault's mainframe. However, the improved version was now able to distinguish hostile reactions and would not attack anyone unless they attacked it first. He had then adjusted its patrol of the Super-Duper Mart into it and left it on its own.

That project had taken another three days. After that he decided he should go out and continue looking for his dad, but after a slight misadventure he was starting to doubt the possibility that his dad could have survived that long at all. On his first excursion from the mighty fortress he had created for himself, as he walked along a curving road that cut into the side of a cliff that followed the river south, a figure clad in metal suddenly came into view. The metal had been a shiny black and it completely covered the person's body, and it reminded Cornelu of what the old trader had said about the Enclave.

Somehow the person detected Cornelu and turned, bringing an energy weapon to its shoulder that looked like a rifle version of the boxy energy pistols he had found. A beam of red light cut through the air towards him, creating a steaming black rut in the plate of armor that covered his left triceps as it grazed him. He dove back around the curvature of the cliff and threw down the last of the homemade mines as he went. He remembered how it habe been so much more powerful than the other mines, so he hoped it would do something.

The strange foe had been much faster than a normal person and Cornelu had barely set the mine before he saw the figure come into view. He ran back a few steps in his haste and had not even turned around when the explosion went off.

He woke up sometime later, as the sun was setting. After five minutes of blinking and rubbing his head, his sense of sight had come back enough for him to perceive the world again. He had then seen the shiny black form lying across a fence in an unnatural position on the other side of the road. It had appeared to be dead so he walked up to it. He noticed that, although the explosion had been enough to throw the person back a good ten feet and wrap them around a fencepost, the armor had been not punctured. The most damage it had shown had been a large amount of charring and soot on the front of the left leg. He had aimed his assault rifle at the figure again, in case it had been feigning death. After several seconds the mangled body had still not moved, so he approached it. The body had been doubled over the fence with its head out of view so he had jumped over the fence to inspect the head more carefully. The helmet had been demon-like and scary looking. To make absolutely sure that the person in the armor had been dead, he had gone over and kicked the figure in its scary head, hard.

The impact had jarred his leg and he was sure that if it were not for the steel-toe combat boots of his armor he had had on, all of his toes and most of the other bones in his foot would have been broken. He had then found a flexible latch, like an industrial grade bungee cord, on the back of the armor that attached it to the main part of the armor. He had found another on the front and after detaching these he had been able to remove the helmet, which was rather heavy, and then had seen the face of the person he had killed. She had been plain looking with her brown hair buzzed into a classic military cut with a trickle of blood coming from her mouth, and for a second he felt an overwhelming sorrow to have killed this person, but he pushed it aside, telling himself there had been no other option. Which was true, but it had been hard for him to forgive himself afterward.

It was odd. The raiders were savage, and he had no remorse for killing them. But this person, if not for whatever reason she had to want to harm him, might have gotten along. If she had access to such advanced technology then she obviously was not a savage, mindless animal like the raiders. So why had she attacked on sight? What was the motivation. The trader had said that the Enclave attack all they see, but what would prompt such blind slaughter? It made him depressed and confused.

Certain that she was dead, he started searching for anything that might have been useful. Cornelu found ammo that looked like a larger version of the energy cells he had fond in a compartment built into the metal. He took those and the three stimpacks he found as well. The energy rifle she had been carrying was severely damaged from the explosion. He decided the armor had been simply too awesome to not take, so he searched along the black surface to see if he could get it off of the body. The parts had seemed to be held together by bolts along where the seams of normal clothing would be.

The armor had come off in chunks, great big heavy pieces that weighed at least fifty pounds all together. He had carried the parts back in three trips and put the loot in his 'workshop.'

His 'workshop' was an area in the back room next to the unit that the Protectron had been in, where the computer and medical box was. He had converted the countertop into a work place, on which the beginning stages of a pack robot had been scattered. He swept them to the side and set the seemingly unbreakable armor down to inspect even more closely.

The chest was in two major pieces that were hinged together on one side and had previously been bolted together on the other. On the inside there seamed to be a tight-fitting cloth lining the metal, but when he looked closer he had realized that sewn into the cloth were hundreds of tiny wires, barely larger than the threads they were woven into. They had only been noticeable because they were coated in a black and shiny metal that was not unlike the outer shell and they stood out against the sturdy gray fabric that surrounded them.

Cornelu had decided that the best way to find out anything more about the strange equipment would be to put it on, so had taken off the faded green combat armor and climbed into the lower part of the armor, which was all one piece. Then he had clamped the arm and chest pieces on. On his left arm he kept a piece off to make room for his Pip-Boy, but the wrist computer just happened to fit in the void left by the piece snugly. The left gauntlet still fit on his hand. He had found that there was a small powered screwdriver on each gauntlet that seamed to be able to reach all of the loose bolts if he stretched in the right way, but it was a tedious process as the cloth was annoyingly tight around him and the metal that encased his arms was heavy.

He had tightened the bolts and put the helmet on, reaching back to attach it to the neck of the armor, and then he set the clamp on the front of the neck as well. Although the helmet was very heavy, it set on the neck of the armor snugly so that he did not have to support it with his head. Unfortunately, this made it impossible to move his head from side to side.

At first he hadn't been able to see anything, but as soon as the clamps were secured he heard a soft beep. Then the front of the helmet, just inches from his face, had lighted up as an almost invisible glass, or at least he had thought it was glass, screen turned on. When fully on, it had showed a detailed view of the counter in front of him. He turned his head, which he suddenly was able to do easily despite the tension from the bungee-like latch the he thought he should have felt. Then he had moved his arm up to look at his hand and found that the trouble he had experienced previously had gone, as if the heavy metal armor had lost all of its weight. He looked at his hand and had seen that the fingers were only thinly layered with armor and would still be small enough to use the trigger on most guns. While he was examining his bulky, yet sleek looking metal form a quiet female voice sounded in the helmet, clear and soft.

"_Unit 182-PA Class Mark II detecting new user, [user designation error]. Unable to connect with mainframe."_

The armor hadan artificial intelligence. And it was his.

After a few days of doing nothing more than fooling around with the armor he had decided to actually do something productive. He had linked the armor with the remaining open computer, moved into the back room from its place guarding the lockable door. Once he had accessed the helmet's data he manually scanned through it to learn as much as he could.

He found a subroutine that required the armor to link with a mainframe that was situated several miles to the northwest and confirm that the user was on a personnel list. If the unit was unable to link to the mainframe then it was to assume the user was authorized to use the armor and check with the list as soon as it was able to link with the mainframe. The part that had scared him was that if the link to the mainframe was made and the user was not on the list of authorized personnel, the armor was to shut down with the person inside and send an emergency beacon to be retrieved.

Immediately after discovering this he had physically removed the beacon from a small port on the top of the helmet. The AI then realized he was not supposed to be tampering with it and became actively hostile. Luckily he had temporarily restricted it's ability to move the armor's hydraulic muscles or it may have actually physically attacked him. He had to engage in a war with it through the computer, fingers flying through lines of code, before finally winning.

He copied all of the AI, its personality and tactical data, along with anything else he thought would be useful, to the computer and completely rewrote the armor's systems. Interestingly, he found that controlling the armor was not inherently built into the AI and it if allowed it could do other things. He removed a few failsafes and lockdowns like the first one he had found, changed all override protocols and basically made absolutely certain that he, and only he, had complete control over the AI. It was quite a feat to do that without corrupting or damaging the AI, but he managed it and reinstalled the her back into the armor, overwriting the original as he did.

This process had been tedious and time consuming, taking nearly two and a half weeks, but when he was done he had had a much more thorough understanding of the unit. Other than the parts that were dangerous he had mostly left everything well enough alone, so as not to accidentally change an essential program.

Almost as a afterthought, he had programmed in her designation so that the AI would call him by his name instead of repeating the 'user designation unknown' error.

Cornelu thought about all of this while trying to fall asleep on his clean bed, with his now-working smart armor in carefully arranged pieces near him so he could get in it in just moments. He had finished a day or two ago and resumed work on Box, his spacious robotic mule, and the difference was like going from doing acrobatics on a tightrope with no net to doing cartwheels on the ground. He sort of missed the intense challenge of subverting a hostile, advanced AI.

As he was starting to drift off into sleep he heard what sounded like a strong wind whistling restlessly outside of his impenetrable fortress. That was the only warning he had before the entire store shook violently. He jumped out of bed and was halfway into his armor when he was brought to his knees by a huge, deafening explosion, like a million grenades going off right next to his ear. The last thing he saw before he blacked out was a chunk of the ceiling at the other end of the room fall and crush the food-packed shelves that were right next to his workplace.

AN/ So, what made the explosion? Are Raiders attacking? Is the sky falling? Did a Behemoth hit a home run playing Mini-nuke baseball? Did somebody fart? (he he he, Three Dog reference) Tune in next time to find out!


	12. 2: Ch 6: Lucy in the Sky with Diamonds

Chapter 6: "Lucy In The Sky With Diamonds" by The Beatles

Cornelu woke to a soft female voice speaking faintly. The Geiger counter on his Pip-Boy was ticking like crazy, which was cause for alarm. He opened his eyes, but then closed them again as a sharp pain jolted through his head. For the brief second that his eyes were open he saw blurry images, so instead of opening them again, which would only make his head hurt more, he tried to rely on his senses of hearing and touch to orient himself. He was lying on his front, there where large, uncomfortable things that felt like rocks under him and somewhere to his right the soft female voice continued, although he could not discern what it was saying. Excluding his painful headache and a few sores on his chest where he was lying on something, he could not feel anything wrong with himself.

He felt around and found his backpack, then the pocket that held his medical supplies. He reached in and found something, but it did not feel like a stimpack. Slowly opening his eyes so that he would not suffer extreme pain, he looked at it and saw that it was one of the cartridges of unknown medicine that he had acquired shortly after leaving the Vault. His delirious mind decided that it was a good idea to see if the medicine would help him so he brought it to his mouth, pushed the plunger of the canister down and inhaled.

Nothing happened.

He thought that it was probably old and that it would not be as potent as it had been in pre-war times, so he took another hit from the mysterious drug. Still nothing happened so he just dropped it and reached back into the backpack. He found a stim (by accidentally stabbing his finger with it) and injected it into his forehead. Immediately the pain started receding, but not only that, he started to feel like he was floating. He opened his eyes and the pain was gone, but everything was still blurry. Not like it had been before, now it was like whenever he moved his head everything moved as well, but another set of the same things stayed where they had been.

A few minutes went by while he observed how the workshop diverged from itself every time his eyes wandered. But then it wasn't the workshop anymore. Now that he looked closer he saw that there were patterns on the walls that he had never seen before, and the floor was made of skin, as if he was very small and on the surface of a normal sized human.

_Or maybe,_ he thought sluggishly, _I'm normal sized and I'm on the skin of a giant! _He gasped at this realization and proceeded to beg the giant to spare his life.

* * *

This went on for half an hour before he started to come down. The strange things that had been passing in front of his eyes gradually morphed back into the room that he was actually in, the distorted voice of the deity that had been imparting cosmic secrets to him returned to being the voice of his armor a few feet away, the sense of floating was replaced by a heavy weight on top of him. Apparently he had rolled over without noticing it, and he was now lying on his back staring at the ceiling. The weight that was pressing on him started to concentrate on his abdomen and he felt the urge to throw up, but the muscles in his throat and chest somehow resisted the involuntary movement of his stomach and his insides flopped inside him. The sensation was similar to the butterflies that he had used to get when he looked at Amata, but this time it was more like an albatross instead of butterflies. The headache that he had before his trip returned full force and the only thing he could think was, _Make it stop!_

Almost without conscious thought he reached over and grabbed the container that he had dropped earlier. Putting it to his mouth again he took a hit, but it was empty, there was no magic substance to make the horrible feeling go away.

He reached into the bag and grabbed another of the canisters, but it had a crack in it that he had not noticed before and was empty as well. He panicked, barley functioning through the pain and discomfort as he scrabbled to find something that would make him feel better. He dumped the contents of the bag and rummaged through the pile of medicinal items, searching for more canisters. He found four, but two were cracked, one was empty and the other had a nozzle missing so the precious substance inside was inaccessible. He started prying at it with a screwdriver and was able to get a jet of pressurized air to be released from the container, but it just went up into the air because he had not had his mouth to the opening. He swore violently before moving his mouth to exactly the same place the gas had gone and inhaling through his mouth, hoping to get as much of it out of the air as he could.

When he realized there was nothing left he curled up into a ball in the corner and cowered while the terrible feelings of nausea and other sensations he could not even describe washed over him.

* * *

When he was able to move again, which felt like at least a year later, he got up and started to assess the damage. Something had caused the corner of the building to collapse. On the ground near him were a few chunks of cement that had fallen from the ceiling, one of which had blood on it and near it was a puddle of drying crimson liquid. Taking stock of himself he found that his head, although still hurting terribly from his experience, was not wounded. There was, however, a lot of dry blood clinging to the left side of his face. He was still being exposed to low-level radiation as well from what his Pip-Boy noisily told him.

As he had been learning about becoming a doctor His dad had told him that some of the drugs used in the practice were addictive and that if someone ever came up to him shaking and asked for a specific drug that he should refuse, get either him or an security officer and prepare for the possibility that that person might become violent. He did not think about that too much because he was shaking slightly and he was sure if he did think about that he would feel ashamed. His mind shied away from anything that could make the never ending unpleasantness worse.

He spotted the pile of medical items and again checked to see if there were any that still had any of the substance in them. They still didn't. He put on his armor and the first thing it said was, _"A highly addictive drug has been detected in your system during routine physical scan. You are advised to see a doctor and have your system purged to avoid withdrawals. Lockdown is advised if this is impossible. Shall I initiate lockdown?"_

Cornelu did not know what withdrawals were, but he remembered from his days of scanning through his armor's programs that 'lockdown' was when it took full control of all movement, so he said, "No."

"_Acknowledged."_

"How long was I out?" he asked.

"_At first you were unconscious for only a few minutes, you then awoke, healed yourself and used a highly addictive drug. Then you were conscious but distracted for half an hour, rolling occasionally, before you frantically searched for more of the drug. Finding none, you curled up and lay for twenty minutes before getting up and adorning yourself with me. The explosion happened less than an hour ago."_

It took him by surprise than he had only laid in agony for twenty minutes. It had felt like an endless period of time before the pain had subsided enough for him to think at all. Then his attention turned to the fact that the building was falling down and he would probably have to find a new place to live.

"Can your sensors determine the cause of the explosion?"

"_Not with any certainty, but large amounts of gamma radiation were detected just before the event and have sustained since, suggesting a nuclear blast. I tried to tell you this earlier but you were unresponsive. It is advised that you take anti-radiation medicine as you have already become highly radioactive."_

"Okay," he said, wondering if he had any anti-radiation medicine and if he did, what it would do to him. He again went back to the meds that were scattered around on the floor and searched for anything that was not a stimpack. He had a few more empty canisters, what looked like a stimpack that had two canisters of some substance that was not what he wanted connected to the empty needle, the mentats that he had taken from the Overseer's office so long ago, and three strange bags filled with amber liquid that had long tubes coiled up and attached to them. He had found them while searching through the store. They had pieces of paper taped over the labels and on the paper the words "RadAway" were written, so he assumed that was what he was looking for. He pulled the paper off and read the directions for applying the treatment.

Soon he was rigged up with one of the small bags of medicine draining away into his body. There was a small port in the left armpit of the armor were a tube could be threaded through, then down his arm and into a vein in his wrist.

After the medicine was set up and being delivered he decided to check on the rest of the store. One of the bathrooms had completely collapsed, but was still inaccesable from the outside. After checking the rest of the store and finding it still standing he grabbed an assault rifle and some ammo and went outside to see if any of his various traps had been set off by the explosion.

Although he meant to inspect the mini-nuke trap, along with a few others that he had placed in the parking lot, he was immediately distracted by a slight heat signature to the north, noticeable because it stood out against the chilly night air like a light. Whatever was causing it was just out of sight over a hill on the other side of the river. He heard three quick beeps from armor, followed by another. Remembering that this meant, "possible hostile detected, no imminent danger," he decided to see what was making the heat signature.

He advanced over the bridge that was a short distance away and up the small hill towards the possible threat. He was confidant that Armor would be able to notify him of anything that might see him, so he focused on sneaking up on whatever it was. When he reached the top he found that overshadowed by a large bolder was a small crater, probably created by an explosion long ago.

In the crater was a rusty wagon that had been tipped over, a sniper rifle, a backpack and two prone and seemingly unconscious forms. The closest was a girl with an assault rifle and a shotgun on her back and what looked like what had once been very pale skin. He could not be sure, however, because most of her skin that he could see was red and scoured, with muscle showing through in some places. She was lying on her stomach with her arms over her head and every part of her body that faced up was severely scalded. What remained of her clothes were reduced to scraps of cloth that were pinned beneath her and had not been subject to the explosion.

Seeing she was still alive, he removed the weapons from her back and placed them out of reach. Then, without even considering leaving the two helpless people alone, he retrieved a few stimpacks from a compartment in his armor and used half of one on each of the girl's limbs, and then another on her back. He watched for a few seconds to make sure the medicine took effect. When new tissues could be seen growing he went on to the other person. He was lying on his left side at the foot of the rock, at the opposite side of the crater. The edge of the crater that the girl was slumped against seemed to have protected most of her body from the blast because the man was completely burned. He was covered from head to toe, not just on his upturned side, but on his front and back as well. Unlike the girl's burns, however, his were more less deep, and his clothes were completely gone. Apparently, although he had been more exposed to the searing heat, his clothes had been more protective. It was not clear if he had fared better, though they had not peeled away as much flesh his wounds covered almost all of his body. Cornelu used one stim on him, ejecting small amounts of the potent drug every few inches along his body.

As he moved from the man's torso to his head, which had some burning on the ear, he noticed the man had sunglasses on, which had previously been covered by a few clumps of singed hair. Almost as if his eyes knew where to look on there own, he spotted the scar on the man's neck, where he, Cornelu, had shot him. He finally recognized the man as the raider leader that he had fought with just over a month ago. He then made sure that there were no weapons near the raider, moving the sniper rifle over with the girl's weapons and out of reach of either of the two. He as starting to doubt weather helping the two had been a good idea.

Going back to the girl, he found that she was completely healed and very, _very_ naked. When she had been covered in third degree burns it had not really registered that her clothing was gone. Now she was a perfect alabaster color from her arms, pitifully adorable curled up over her head, to her legs, long and flowing, and _everywhere _in between. Prying his eyes away from her rear, he tried to decide what to do next. He thought about going back to the store. It would be safe, but that would make this entire thing seem pointless; he had just saved the two people's lives, leaving them helpless in the Wasteland that would probably kill them seamed counterproductive. But what was he going to do then? He could carry them back to the store, but he would have to make two trips, not to mention what they might do when they woke up in an unfamiliar place while dazed and confused.

The question was made moot as, just then, the girl started to stir.


	13. 3: Ch 1: Whispers In The Dark

Part 3: Vagrancy

Chapter 1: "Whispers In The Dark" by Skillet

Zoiks woke up and started to move, then realized that moving should hurt. She remembered (with some help from her NIPC) an absolutely colossal explosion, and being hurt on the back, and trying to heal herself, and that the pain of moving even a little had knocked her out. Without having time to think, she heard something move close by. She opened her eyes and rolled over, reaching for one of the weapons on her back as she went, but they were not there. Neither, she felt, was the rough fabric the was usually covering her back. Noticing this she quickly looked down and found that she was not wearing any clothes at all. Panic flooded through her as she started wondering what had happened to her while she had been unconscious.

She heard something move again and looked up. Near the center of the crater was a black figure that looked like it was made of metal. There was a break in the dull gleam of the black at its left wrist, where a green box was attached to the figure's arm. As she watched it moved over to a collection of weapons, which she realized were her's and Sam's, turned to her and crouched down as if guarding the guns with its own assault rifle in hand but pointed down. When it turned to her she immediately moved to cover herself and it pointedly looked away.

Without appearing to move at all, which was rather unnerving, the thing said, "I'm not going to hurt you, but I can't give you your weapons back unless I know you are not going to attack me." When it spoke its voice sounded like a male's voice being played through a speaker, and she could not tell the tone as well as if the conversation was face-to-face.

After taking a second to think Zoiks said, "Whabt dibd you do to me?" She tried to keep the fear out of her voice, and failed miserably.

"Nothing like that," the man said quickly, obviously knowing what she meant. "I just healed you."

"Then why don't I habe any cwothes on?" she said in a half accusing, half confused tone, fidgeting uncomfortably as she said it.

Still looking away he said, "There was an explosion and it scorched your back and arms. It also burned away most of whatever it was you were wearing. There is still some of it left, by the way. It was under you so it did not get burned. And while you were out I didn't touch you, all I did was use stims to heal your wounds, I swear." The way he spoke sounded like he was pleading for her to believe him, which lessened her feeling of helplessness but also left her a little confused. She looked down next to her and lying exactly where she had been was the front of her clothes, blackened along the edges. It was like a tan outline of her on the ground After a quick glance to make sure the metal clad man was still looking away, she quickly picked up the remains of the shirt and covered her chest with it, then she tied it around her back with what was left of the sleeves. There was enough of the thin leather-like brahmin skin to cover everything she needed covered, but just barely so she stood up and tied her ruined pants around her waist. She might have thought it looked like a skirt, if she had ever seen a skirt.

When she was done she looked around. She noticed Sam was lying at the other side of the crater a few feet away. His leather armor was also vaporized, but he was mostly intact and he looked like he had been healed recently as well. She decided then and there that she should find herself some armor. It seemed to come in handy. Also in the crater was the wagon, which had been tipped over from the explosion and its contents were spilling out. Her NIPC gave her focus a nudge and she remembered the shotgun that she kept in the wagon. She noted it in case the man attacked, which was unlikely at this point. If he was going to he would have already.

Just then the man broke the silence. "Could you talk please? Because if you don't I'm going to have to look to see if you are trying to sneak up on me."

"Um..." was her intelligent reply. After a second she said, "You can wook now, I guess. How long habe I been out?"

As he turned he said, "The explosion was about an hour ago. You woke up as soon as the medicine was done healing you." It was still eerie to watch the metal helmet remain motionless while noise came from it. It unsettled her. It was inhuman.

"So he thoulbd wake up soon?" Zoiks said, nodding to Sam.

"I think so, but we shouldn't wait around for long. If you need somewhere to sleep for the night, the store just across the river is well protected."

"Okay, can I habe my guns back?" she said as she moved forward slightly. The figure moved away from the stack of weaponry and motioned it it, as if saying, "Go ahead." Then he went over and, with one hand still holding the assault rifle, threw Sam over his shoulder. It looked uncomfortable, the blunt shoulder spike seemed to be digging into Sam's abdomen.

Zoiks rearranged all of the supplies, putting most of it back into the wagon. She strapped her guns back over her shoulders, the weight actually more reassuring than annoying after the helplessness that she had felt when she woke up. Then she quickly piled the supplies back into the wagon, keeping a wary eye on the stranger while she did. She put Sam's weapons and equipment in with the other stuff. After that they set off for a bridge that was not too far away.

They arrived at the store that she had noticed the night before. It was in significantly worse shape now, it had looked close to pristine and now was cracked and blackened along two sides with parts of the ceiling caving in. The man in the armor gave a warning about one of the cars outside the building and they made a large detour around it. Inside the shelves had been rearranged to slow any one who entered with a bit of a maze. She noticed several good firing positions set up with at least one box of ammo at each. There were a lot of traps, the figure led a winding path through the rubble and they didn't set any off. They reached a room at the back of the store and he unlocked a door. He proceeded in and plopped Sam down on the softest piece of floor around. Then the man unclasped something at the back of his neck and the eerie metal helmet slid off his head.

He turned to her exposing a rough face and untidy long hair that was stuck in a strange parody of hat hair. He smiled slightly, then said, "Hi. I'm Cornelu." He motioned around a little nervously and continued, "And this is... well, it's the place I'm calling home right now."

"It's... nice," She replied awkwardly. "My nambe is Zoiks."

"Um, well, Zoiks, I think I've got an extra set of clothes if you want," he said, apparently noticing how inadequate her attire was. He went to the storage boxes by the bed and pulled out some clothes. They looked like a mix of random items that he had found on the ground and some of the less revealing raider apparels. He handed a wad of them to her and continued, "Take your pick. I'm going to crash in the other room near the door, that's where I'll be if you need me. The food is stored here, but most of the water is a bit radioactive. The bed in the corner is the best that we have available, help yourself if you want, but don't touch any of the electronics," he motioned to his workbench, "and, um, don't try and steal anything." He gave her a look that he thought was stern and she thought was funny before leaving.

* * *

Cornelu sat down at one of the foreword firing positions, set his assault rifle on his knees, removed the spent 'radaway' IV from his arm, told Armor to wake him if anyone approached and promptly fell asleep.

The next thing he new he was being roused from his slumber and it felt like no time had passed. "Cornelu," a pleasant female voice said rather close to his ear, "You told me to wake you if anyone approached." Remembering the attractive voice was coming from a robotic AI, he frowned and tried to go back to sleep. The voice inside his metal helmet continued, "Well I am. There are several possibly hostile humanoids outside and they want to come in."

That woke him up. "What! How many? Are they armed? How long have they been there?" he asked Armor, jumping to his feet and looking around. It was about midday, judging from the light shining through the new cracks in the ceiling. He must have slept for a while, much longer than he thought he had.

"There are between six and twenty, and there are three robots with them, but my sensors can't accurately determine any more than that. The group just started yelling a few seconds ago. I can make out at least six distinct voices, all of which are male."

"Okay, hold on." He rose jerkily and stretched, quickly trying to work out the kinks in his body that formed from sleeping in a sitting position... in powered armor. Then he rushed to the back room and called out to wake Zoiks. "Hey, we've got company! Grab a gun and get out here!" He ran back to the front of the store, being thankful that Armor was doing all the work for him because he would probably be winded by now if she wasn't, and yelled out the door, "Who's there?" He wasn't close enough to see out, but he heard the response easily because of the sensors in his helmet.

"This is Lucas Simms, I'm the Sheriff from Megaton. We mean you no harm, but we need a place to stay. Could we come in?"

* * *

AN/ They're baaaaaaaaaaack. 0.o


	14. 3: Ch 2: The Tale of Megaton

Chapter 2: "The Tale Of Megaton"

Song: "Through Fire And Flames" by Dragonforce

Thinking fast, Cornelu said, "Alright. But, um, don't shoot me when you see me!" He retreated to the first firing position and crouched, keeping his gun at the ready by not pointed at the doors. He noticed as he did that his hands were shaking, but it wasn't from the tension, it was more of an empty, hungry feeling inside him that wasn't in his stomach. Zoiks was ready with her own assault rifle and had set up in the next position behind him. Filling her in, he said, "Don't shoot unless they do. They said they're here peacefully."

A few moments later the door was nudged open. A dark skinned man with a black beard wearing an old cowboy hat and duster poked his head in cautiously. He spotted Cornelu's shiny black helmet and said. "Is that you?"

He moved slightly and said, "Yes. Why are you here?"

"Look, I hate to ask a stranger, but since you were peaceable and educated enough to make a sign that offered trade with misspelling anything I was hoping you would let us rest here for a while. We survived the blast, but we've all got some radiation poisoning and a few of us are injured pretty bad. We've been carryin' all our stuff on out backs since the explosion and everyone is tired. We don't mean any harm."

Cornelu thought about it for a second. This was looking less like a trick every second, so he decided to trust the 'sheriff.' Standing up and swinging his rifle over his back, he said, "Alright, bring them in. I'll help. My name's Cornelu, by the way." He turned to Zoiks, who was out of sight of the door around a bend in the maze and said, "If you hear gunfire, shoot the next person to walk through the door." Then he started for the door. Simms put his rifle, a strange white variation of the usual assault rifle, away as well and set out first, and he heard the cowboy say something about not attacking, and he heard the words, "Enclave" and "kid."

He followed out the door and was greeted rather inhospitably by a small group of people. Because the ones with guns were in front protecting those behind he could not tell how many there were, but of the twelve or so people he noticed there were only six adequate weapons spread among them, the rest had small pistols or nothing for weaponry. However they all had sacks and improvised bags on their backs. There were a few robots in the back, two Mr Gutsys and one Protectron. Everyone looked at him suspiciously and Simms even had to calm one man who raised his gun, but no one fired. "It's okay, I'm friendly." He noticed one of the people in back was leaning in exhaustion on the rigged car and advised, "You might want to step away from that car though. It's set to explode."

Everyone backed away from the vehicle. Then one of the oldest of the few who were armed said, in a very familiar voice with an unfamiliar hostile tone, "Where did you get that armor, kid?"

"I killed the woman that was originally wearing it. Hey, don't I know you?"

"You might, I know a lot of people." He gripped his gun tighter and Armor automatically zoomed in so that he saw the man's right index finger creep around the trigger of his gun and his muscles tensed as if he was going to raise his weapon.

Cornelu slowly reached back with his left hand and unhinged his helmet, then slid it off his head. Once it was off he felt the power fail and everything became unbearably heavy, so he quickly asked, "Aren't you the one with the broken robot I fixed?"

The aged man relaxed and said, "Yeah I am. _And _I distinctly remember warning you about people walking around in shiny black armor."

He scratched his head carefully with the heavy gauntlet's sharp metal fingers and replied, "You might have, I'm not a very good listener." He put the helmet back on so that Armor came back online.

The tension in the air evaporated and a few of the group chuckled. Lucas came into the conversation then with, "Alright, now let's get everyone inside. I don't want to be attacked by raiders while were so close to safety."

Cornelu quickly went around unburdening a few of the weakest looking, starting with the kids, because he could carry things easier with Armor. He was first in through the door and, after calling out that everything was okay to Zoiks, led the way through the maze, undoing the many set traps as he went. When he reached the open area outside the lockable door to the back room he started dragging things out for the weary travelers to sit on. Zoiks had fallen back when he yelled out that it was safe and was now leaning back against the end of the room, looking scared and holding her assault rifle. As he worked he said to her, "It's okay, they're just refugees that survived the blast. I'm letting them stay here for a while." She looked nervously at him but didn't respond. The group filed in and a few, including the three that he had relieved of their load, pulled rough 'blankets,' if they could even be called that, from their packs and rolled them out to sleep on. The rest took the heavy packs off their shoulders and sat on the boxes and crates and started unpacking and checked their guns for jams.

Lucas stepped forward and was about to say something when Zoiks suddenly bolted for the door of the back room, closing it behind her. This attracted a few curious glances, but with only a disconcerted grunt the sheriff began, in his deep voice. "Thank you stranger. We won't be a problem. Just a few nights and we'll be on our way." The trader that Cornelu recognized came over as well but stayed out of the conversation, just listening.

"It's fine. As a matter of fact, this place has got more food than I could eat in a year, I'll bring some out for you. You can get fairly clean water from the bathroom sinks, but the pressure is really low. And anyway, it's still pretty bad. If the radiation becomes to much of a problem, I do have some pure water hidden away somewhere, but I'm not giving that away for free. I lugged that around for far to long. Sleeping arrangements might be a problem, too, I'm not sure we have enough floor space, and there are only three very thin mattresses. I had them stacked together just to make one bed." He looked around again and counted eighteen with himself, Zoiks and the unconscious raider included. He noticed two of the group were children and a woman was on a stretcher being pulled behind a robot. As he offered one of the few actual chairs to the two men he asked, "What happened to her?"

Removing his own large rucksack and accepting the chair, Simms said "That's Moria. Of all of us, she was the closest to the bomb, and the only person who was in the town when it happened and is still alive now. Doc Church doesn't know what's wrong with her, other than the burns that is. Maybe she hit her head. She's been out for a while, Doc says it's a coma. We kept thinking she wasn't going to make it like all the others that we found in the ruins, but she's still breathing somehow. About the rations, we're fine with river water. It's more radioactive, but it's better than nothing. Food would be great, though. We only have a little."

"Sure." He went to the shelves in the main room to get some food. Zoiks was sitting on his bed next to the unconscious man with her gun on her knees, and she looked up when she heard him enter. Unsure of what had caused her strange reaction, he asked, "So, what was that out there?" Waiting for an answer he grabbed an armful of packaged pre-war victuals. She didn't respond and he looked over again, this time noticing the wet streaks that ran down her face. Concerned he asked, "Zoiks, what's wrong?"

Wiping her eyes she said, "Aw you sure they aw re-fu-gees? I think they aw thlabers."

"Yes, I'm a hundred percent sure. I've met one of them before, he traded with me about a month ago. Despite the fact that he could have killed or enslaved me easily he actually gave me a rather good deal on my combat armor, not that I wear it anymore because I have this. What makes you think they're slavers?"

She gave a sad chuckle before saying, "I guess it id not much. The one with the hat, that wooks wike a cowboy, the gun he has weminds me of thlabers."

"Well, he is the Sheriff of the town that blew up, he probably picked it up off of a slaver he killed. Anyway, if they were slavers there wouldn't be carrying wounded, and they would have just attacked us outright. Even if this was a ruse, they would have attacked once they were inside, and they haven't."

"I guess you aw wight. I' gonna stay here 'dough."

Bringing the food out he set it on a counter for the hungry people and once Lucas and the trader each had a box of Blamco Mac&Cheese to eat he sat down next them. "So are you guys slavers?"

They both looked at him incredulously and Lucas said, "What? No, of course not. Why would you think that?"

"Zoiks thought you were, I just wanted to ask outright. I don't think you are, but I figured I might as well ask. Forget I said it." Thinking more about the situation, he asked, "I found two working hotplates. I've been cooking my food with them since I got here. I brought them out too, if you don't want to eat that cold. So, you said you don't have much food. If not then what is it that everyone is carrying around on their backs?"

Between bites the sheriff replied, "Well, most of it is cloth and bedding that we were able to scavenge from the common house. The rest is what was left of Wolfgang's stock after his pack brahmin was nuked. Doc has it the easiest because of the bullet in his shoulder. All we gave him was the medical supplies, and there aren't much of them so it's not much of a burden."

"So, um, how exactly did _anyone_ survive? I mean, it is good that you did and all, but it was a _nuclear explosion_. How?"

With a bit of ambient anger, though it was not directed at Cornelu, he said, "Well, that has a bit of a story behind it, but to be honest it is sheer luck that so many of us are left. A while back a man named Burke came into town wanting to blow up the town, though we didn't know that at the time of course. About two months after he showed up a faction broke off of the Church. The Church of Atom was a bunch of nutjobs who worshiped the bomb. They didn't make any trouble and the held a lot of sway in Meg- in town so I left them alone to do their crazy preaching. The new cult, though, the Holy Light Monastery, they wanted to make everyone ghouls. They tried to vandalize the water purifier, then they tried to contaminate the water in the pipes with radiation. A few days ago Burke just up and leaves in the middle of the night, and then last night that boy over there, Perez, he comes up to me and says, 'The Monastery is going to detonate Atom soon.'

"There had to be some sort of investigation into an accusation that big. I knew they had a lot of followers, so to be safe I rounded up everyone in town that had a gun, which would be me, old Stevie here," he gestured to the trader sitting next to him that Cornelu had already met, "Jericho and Stockholm. We also brought any townspeople that wanted to come along, which accounts for why Lucy, Ethyl, Walter and a few others, Maggie's adopted dad Billy, for one, weren't caught in the blast. Gob was sent by Moriarty so that it looked like he had helped in the problem. I dragged Church out with most of his stock of medicine because I figured people might get hurt, and now he's contemplating on the lazy, irritable attitude that almost got his ass blow ta' shit. Crazy Wolfgang and Lilith tagged along because, well, Wolf saw us going by and was curious, I guess. No one really knows with him." He pointed to the body that went with each name as he ran down the list. "Because of the low chance of a gunfight in a 'Monastery' I brought my son, though I made him wear my armor just in case, and his friend so that they could learn a thing or two about Wasteland justice.

"We go down into the basement that the 'Monastery' is in and start asking questions, when suddenly everything shook and there was the loudest noise you could ever hear. All the air seemed to be sucked from the room and a few of us still haven't gotten our hearing back yet. Then it was over and all the acolytes start cheering, then they turned on us, unarmed and all. We easily won, I don't think anyone was even hurt, but when we climbed out of that hole Megaton was gone."

He stopped here, showing no emotion externally. It was obvious that 'Megaton' was the name he had tripped over before, and equally noticeable how coldly and deadpan he said it now. A few seconds passed before the sheriff cleared his throat and continued. "We picked through the remnants, a lot of people picking up pretty bad cuts and burns from looking through the hot jagged metal. Several buildings, the ones that hadn't been obliterated, had been thrown hundreds of feet in all directions. My house was found warped around a raised highway. Moria's shop had been bounced around, but we found her almost completely wrapped in the mattress she had been sleeping on. It must have protected her some because all she has are burns and radiation poisoning, not cuts or broken bones or anything like that, which is astounding.

"There were a few other situations like hers and we put them all near Springvale with Doc Church to heal as best they could before going out again to search. We found the armory, but most of the guns had been melted. The ammo boxes are heat resistant, I guess, because most of it was still useable. Then we looted the common house for bedding. There were so many bodies in that mangled metal, so much blood, that most of what we got was useless."

He paused and gritted his teeth, "_Then_ those damn raiders came. After all that, humankind just had to prove that it will do anything so long as there is self profit involved. Of the unconscious people we were trying to save, those that hadn't died yet were killed by the raiders, except Moria. They killed a few of the other survivors and shot Doc before anyone with a real gun could get back to help defend, then carried a few more, including Billy, Maggie and Harden, my son, off for slavery, along with most of the little food we had been able to scavenge from the ruins, most of Doc's chems and some of the ammo.

"Me and Jericho, we went after them but before we could save them the raiders heard us coming and started killing the prisoners and destroying the loot. Just before I got there their leader shot Harden, but the vest under his clothes stopped the bullet. She was about to shoot again when I blew the motherfucker's head off." He stopped again and took a few deep breaths, then continued, "Maggie was pretty bloodied up when we got to her, and when we asked her if they had done anything to her she fainted. I had to," he coughed here, and took a second to breath. "I had to check her, to make sure they hadn't... But they hadn't."

Again he paused, overcome with emotion, and again when he continued his tone was flat and lifeless. "Still, she is traumatized. They killed Billy right in front of her. When we returned with the ammo and what was left of the chems we all voted that no one should ever be far away from one of the guns, in case more raiders came. Without food and with more raider scouts being spotted all the time everyone knew we needed to move. We would never make it to Rivet City or Canterbury Commons though, so Stevie suggested this place. He said he had cleared it out once a long time ago when helping Moria with her book, so he knew there was food, but he said the last time he had passed by there were raiders in it again. We loaded up and got ready to attack, but when we arrived here there were no raiders outside and we saw the sign. That all started late last night and I haven't got a wink since then." He eyelids were drooping by the end of the tale and he finished with, "I'm really tired, I'm going to bed."

* * *

AN/ Big changes happening. Since there are so many new people in this last chapter I decided to add a list for you, complete with gender and age. I made a few ages up based on profile because some NPC's don't have a Date of Birth recorded.

Current cast: (Original Characters): Cornelu (Male/19), Zoiks (Female/22), Stevie (M/56), Lilith (F/37), Perez (M/17) and Ethyl (F/31).

(Game Characters): Lucas Simms (M/41), Harden Simms (M/10), Sam Warrick (M/38), Maggie (F/9), Lucy West (F/25), Moria Brown (F/24), Walter (M/61), Crazy Wolfgang (M/28), Doc Church (M/54), Stockholm (M/25), Gob (M/236) and Jericho (M/65).


	15. 3: Ch 3: Crawling

AN/ For some reason Linkin Park really fits Zoiks's messed-upness, whereas Three Days Grace suits Cornelu's unique brand of insanity. Something I noticed while thinking of chapter titles.

Also, this story has just reached 3000 total hits. That's a lot (at least for me), so I thought I'd mention it. Thanks. And I am talking to you. _You _specifically.

o.e

* * *

Chapter 3: "Crawling" by Linkin Park

Zoiks watched from the pile of mattresses as Cornelu left laden with food from the shelves, politely closing the door behind him. The ceiling had caved in and crushed some of the shelves, ruining a few of the packages while scattering others across the floor. That is what her eyes wandered over endlessly as she sat thinking about why she had freaked out at the sight of the white gun. Now she was a only bit shaken, but otherwise she was fine. For some reason the sight of it had brought back sudden visions of metal armored slavers slaughtering runaway slaves.

After a few minutes she moved over to the door, stepping over Sam's ever still form, and started listening to what was happening outside. She heard the sheriff with the white assault rifle talk about what the group had been through and the doubt she still had faded away. He had a son, and had watched the town he was supposed to protect be blasted off the face of the earth. Eventually he mentioned how tired he was and went to bed. In a few seconds the sound of his labored footfalls receded and she opened the door, leaning out and looking around. Cornelu looked over, but didn't say anything. She stayed for a second until the man with the white rifle rolled out a rough cloth mat and laid down next to one of the sleeping children, presumably his son. Just about everyone had followed suit of the first exhausted refugees and were sleeping, having pushed the boxes and debris out of the way. Another man, this one older and in green armor, said, "It looks like we might be disturbing these people. How about we let them sleep in peace."

"Sure, yeah. Let's go to the workshop." They grabbed the chairs and carried them through the door, passing her on their way into the back room. She turned and followed, and after they set up around a small round table she sat on the mattress next to Sam. He was still out cold on the floor where they left him. "Zoiks, this is Stevie," Cornelu said. The man nodded to her and then turned back to Cornelu to talk. She was somewhat out of the group, but she didn't plan on participating.

Stevie chuckled and said, "So, want to explain to me how the hell a jumpy kid fresh out of a Vault cleared out a raider base and took down an Enclave soldier?"

Smiling at the veteran's joking demeanor, he started telling his story with relish. "Well, for the soldier it was sheer luck. I had found a homemade mine here that was incredibly powerful and when she popped up out of nowhere I took cover, set it and ran. She came after me and the raw force of the explosion, along with being wrapped around a fence, killed her. Then I took her armor and reprogrammed it."

"For the raider base it was more a matter of skill. I snuck in here and picked them off with one of the silenced pistols you sold me." Zoik's NIPC pointed out how Cornelu's leg was bouncing excitedly and how his fingers were clicking repeatedly against the small round table, leaving small indents from his armored fingers. His heat signature was higher than normal, but that could be accounted for by the metal he was encased in, she wasn't sure. Also, his hands seemed to be vibrating ever so slightly, even controlling for the movements he was making. Either he was really excited to be speaking to this person or something was off, but she wasn't sure what. "Then a raiding party came back led by the leader and things got a little tricky, but I used their own stock of mines against them and shot the leader. He was exceptionally smart for a raider and I only wounded him, so I offered him an escape and he took the chance. I don't know what happened between then and now, but here he is back in his old place." While he said this he motioned to Sam. That surprised Zoiks. Sam had mentioned running a gang near here before, and had said that a man had forced him to leave. It's a small world after all.

The man spotted the metal around Sam's neck and he looked shocked. "What is that!" Then he jumped to his feet and his attitude turned sour with, "So you think we're slavers because Simms has a fancy gun, and yet here you are with an actual slave collar around a man's neck?"

When he could speak again Cornelu said, "Whoa, I just found them last night, disoriented from the blast like you guys were. I didn't even know that was a slave collar, you'll have to ask Zoiks about that."

They turned to her and she was severely off guard. Sticking to the truth she said, "Sam? He thoot me in da head. I found that cow-aw in hid own bag, and I did it so he wouldn' attack me again because I didn' want to kiww him." Then defensively she added, "I' not a swaber."

A few tense seconds passed before the old man said, "Alright, so now that you are surrounded by people who won't let him hurt you it can come off."

"I don't know about that," Cornelu said with uncertainty. Even with all the other stuff going on, Zoiks did not fail to notice that his hands were shaking quite a bit more as he said, "He is resourceful, he is a raider and I would put money on him holding a grudge against me. Letting him loose might not be the best idea. I think she might have done the right thing here."

"If he is a problem, I will deal with it myself. Until then, I'm not letting anyone be subjected to such treatment." He came over and deftly removed the metal ring before sitting back down.

There was an awkward pause, then Zoiks said, "I' sowwy, I didn' mean to offend you. It' just that-

Stevie sighed, then cut her off. "Forget it. It's just a sensitive subject with me."

"I know what you mean," Zoiks said. "I saw a gwoup of escaped swabes kiwwed by swabers."

They looked surprised at her, then Cornelu asked, "Really? When did this happen?"

"A few days ago. They had metaw a'mow and white guns," she replied. "I' been habing nightmawes evew since."

Abashed, Stevie said, "Well, um, I guess that explains the phobia." He stopped for a second before continuing. "Look, I'm sorry for getting mad like that, it's just that I've lived a long life and I've got plenty of mental scars myself. I'll see if we can part Simms and Jericho from their guns when they wake up, though it might be a losing battle there."

"Thanks," she replied appreciatively. Feeling tired herself she continued, "I think I' gonna go to bed."

* * *

Cornelu watched as Zoiks climbed onto the edge of the stacked thin mattresses, shoving the unconscious raider aside. Whispering so as not to disturb her, Stevie said, "So how did you get into that suit, anyway? From what I've heard you need special training."

The swagger of telling his story to the old vet came back a little, so he continued enthusiastically. "It took a while to get used to it, but once you stop trying to control the armor and just move like normal, with a few tricks here and there, the armor actually makes moving easier. Your muscles work, but they don't take much stress from it so you can run all day and not get fatigued. Of course the machine parts are also really strong, so that helps with lifting and carrying things. The helmet has a whole sensor suite that can pick out a heat signature from a mile away, which is how I found those two," he gestured to the bed. His hand inside it's metal glove started shaking worse than what had become normal for him, and hoping to not attract attention to it he quickly asked, "What is going to happen to these people? To Megaton?"

"I don't know, boy. We'll survive, humanity is persistent like that. As for Megaton, well that's just a name now, but a structured location is what's needed or else we'll just wither out, integrate into other places little by little, die, get picked off by slavers and raiders and deathclaws and- well, the list goes on. If we want to get back to what it was like we're going to need a place to rebuild. This store isn't going to cut it, it's not big enough. Neither is Rivet City, overcrowded as it is there already, and I actually can't think of any other towns with even this many people, let alone enough room for a group like this to join. A new place is going to make us or break us, and it needs to be close to the trade circuit or it's going to have a hard time prospering like Megaton did."

This seemed like dangerous water for Cornelu, thinking of the Vault. What if they wanted to get into the Vault and take over? Were they desperate enough for that? Thinking of the story Simms had told, he had his answer. Yes, yes they were. Dissembling, he said, "Well, uh, I don't know of any places like that, but I guess looking for such a place would be better than sitting around here. At least then they could scavenge food, water, weapons and ammo as they went."

"Yes, but I think we'll need to rest for a while before anyone is up to that." Stevie yawned then and said, "Me included, I'm hitting the sack." He got up and left, moving towards his rucksack to get his mat and 'blankets.' Cornelu followed him out, then lightly stepped over the sleeping people to get out of the room. Then he went back to the forward most firing position and sat down to keep watch. Knowing Armor would detect anything far before he did, he didn't worry about falling asleep, and was out within an hour.

* * *

About six hours later there were a series of beeps, then, "Wake up! Unidentified humans are trying to sneak in though the door," Armor said, rousing Cornelu from his sleep. She had ramped up the volume of her audio sensor and he could hear the faint breaths and heartbeats of the refugees behind him, as well as the gang beyond the front door. The quiet footfalls of three people approaching was easily distinguishable, as was the door opening.

He raised the assault rifle to his shoulder and when they were almost in sight he yelled, "Who's there?"

Armor regulated the volume of his hearing, turning it way down so as not to deafen him, as three raiders charged around the corner. He pulled back the trigger, easily overpowering the recoil with his metal muscled arms. Two of the raiders were armed with normal assault rifles and the other had a bolt-action rifle, and as they fell under the accurate hail of bullets they tried to get a few shots of their own off. All of them missed. Yelling, and with the speaker in his helmet amplifying his voice a little, he called, "Raiders! Were being attacked! Two of you grab some guns and get up here. The rest stay and guard from where you are!" Moving forward to the doors, he finished off the one sadistic human that was still clinging to life and poked his head out to see how many more there were. He glanced out and several bullets impacted the doorframe he was using for cover. One managed to punch through the ancient rotted wood and slap his back, though not with enough force to hurt him through the metal encasing him. "Crap, Armor could you tell how many there were?"

"Twenty-six, most well armed, grouped more than halfway across the parking lot."

"Shit!" Calling out he said to them, "What do you want?"

The response was another ten or so bullets. "Armor, are they near the car trap?"

"Half are in the killing radius. A few more will be wounded."

Retreating, he grabbed the makeshift switch for the bomb outside. It was hidden in a metal box behind the first position, just ten feet back. He spotted Stevie and another older man with one of the white assault rifles that scared Zoiks so much approaching to help. "Get down!" He saw them hit the floor, then mimicked them and flicked the switch.

Nothing happened. That couldn't be right, he had wired it himself. He flicked it again. Still nothing

"Fuck! Never mind, get up here. Do either of you have a grenade?" As they advanced Stevie signaled that he did. "We need to set off the car bomb, it will thin them out so that they're manageable, and it might scare them away. You," he pointed at the unknown man, "Get up on these shelves and find a spot to cover the door. Stevie, we need to make sure the bomb goes off."

He moved towards the door again when the unknown man said, in an arrogant tone, "Who died and made you boss?"

Cornelu stopped and turned, dumbstruck that someone would pick a fight over status in such a time. Time was critical, soon two dozen raiders would be swarming into the store. Ignoring the man he looked at Steve and asked, "You following?"

"Yes."

That was all he needed. He set off towards the front door, running to beat the wave of psychos that were probably descending on them quickly. When he got to the door frame he said, "I'll distract them. It's about thirty feet. Throw the grenade once I'm moving." He ran across to the other side of the door frame five feet away, spraying wildly as he did and using the last of the clip. Many of the raiders were closer now, running at the opening, but he noticed some where separating and going around the building. Just before he reached cover two bullets impacted his chest. They flattened against the metal and the force knocked him off balance, but he managed to fall behind the wall. Staying down, he heard an explosion, but it wasn't nearly as big as he expected. Over the gunfire he heard the screaming of wounded coming from outside.

BOOM.

The ground shook, then something landed nearby that made everything tremble again, and he and Stevie both ran back to the defenses. Cornelu felt another bullet bounce off his back as he passed the open doors again, but it must have been a smaller caliber because it didn't have as much punch behind it and he kept running. The unruly man was set up behind the first position, several clips of 5.56 rounds from the ammo boxes stacked next to him. Cornelu grabbed two clips, reloaded, then said, "Stevie, I saw some moving around to the sides of the store. Go back and get the people away from the walls, then stay alert for any breaches."

"Got it," he gasped, running back and stabbing a stim into his arm as he went. Cornelu hadn't even noticed the other man been hit as well.

Doing the job he had meant for the uncooperative man, Cornelu jumped up and pulled himself on top of the shelves just behind the first firing position. Having originally made it especially hard to do such a thing, the only reason he succeeded in a timely fashion was because of the extra boost Armor gave his legs. There were several layers of shelves behind the first to prevent them from being pushed back, so it was possible to stand on but because of the random pits and unevenness it was impossible to run on. It was certainly easy to break and ankle or get stuck on, though.

He carefully laid down along the top of one shelf. The cover that he had made the firing position out of jutted up unevenly about six inches above the level of the surrounding shelves so he tried to put that scrap of protection between himself and the entrance. The man below opened fire, shooting long reckless bursts at the raiders that were just at the first doors.

Once the man below needed to reload and the raiders started making headway Cornelu opened fire from above. Together they could have held that spot for pretty much forever. They did not, because when the man looked up again and saw that the raiders were getting about halfway to him before going down he put another clip of hot lead in their direction and ran.

Cornelu rolled over and jumped down to the trench between the shelves and followed to the second position. He jumped up again and picked off the two raiders that had manged to climb up the shelves. Every ten seconds or so another would pull his or her head up above the shelves, and they would go back down headless or without any inclination to try again. Below, before blindly charging around the corner to rush them, the raiders were peaking around the cover that they now had and taking potshots.

As the man stopped to reload the raiders came around the corner in mass. Cornelu sprayed them from above, receiving some wildly innacurate and harmless return fire from the running group. Bullets erupted from the slit in the cover below and the attackers started slowing and thinning. By the time they reached the firing position to flank the cover it gave there were only three raiders left. They died without inflicting any damage.

Then there were no more raiders. An explosion rattled the store as the rest of the attacking force tried for the back. They stayed and waited for another attack for a few minuted. When Cornelu left the man to defend and found the point of entry in the back room where the ceiling had fallen in Cornelu found everything taken care of by Lucas, Stevie, a man named Stockholm and a few other armed refugees. Zoiks was behind Sam's prone body, warily watching the ivory gun Simms was holding.

"Well, Cornelu," Stevie said, "That was some impressive on-the-spot improvisation. Without that bomb we would have lost some people, at the least, and might have been overrun. Look, not a single casualty, just a few minor wounds that Doc can heal up in no time."

Lucas looked more relieved than happy about the defense and said, "Yeah, this is good but let's just get the wounded patched up. I'd like to go back to sleep. Where's Church?"

When no one said, "Here," they all looked around, leaving the back room to search. On the rows of mats that had been filled with people minutes before, one figure remained. There wasn't a fresh bullet wound, just the twelve hour old one, but there Doc Church lay, with a pained look on his face and a hand clutching his chest, dead.

Lucas growled, then yelled, "A _heart attack? _You have to be shitting me? After all that, a fucking _heart attack_!" He stormed out in anger, heading towards the deserted parts of the store. It was obvious the stress was taking its toll on the sheriff that everyone had looked to for guidance, and a wave of unease killed the content from the successful defense.

On this melancholy note, the body was removed and most people went back to sleep.


	16. 3: Ch 4: It's All Over

Chapter 4: "It's All Over" by Three Days Grace

Cornelu helped two of the tired refugees move Church's body out to the parking lot. Both of them were adequately armed, the man with a shotgun similar to the one Zoiks had and the woman with leather armor and an assault rifle. As the other two set off to clear the raider corpses he detected movement and went to check it out. A few of the attackers who had been hit by the explosion weren't dead yet. One such survivor had armor on that looked like it was made of bits of scrap metal, providing much better protection than the average raider's armor. Cornelu's old friends, Anger and Hate, welled up inside him, the first time since he had left the constraints of the Vault. Walking up, Cornelu kicked the dying man with his metal boot and asked, "Were you the leader?"

He choked before wheezing, "Yesssss..."

"You are a vulture, you know that? A whole fucking town explodes and you come along to pick away at what is left?"

He chuckled and Cornelu raised his rifle, aiming down the sights. He didn't shoot, though, that was probably what the man wanted. A quick death instead of lying around bleeding out or maybe being eaten by something out in the Wasteland night. "Silly boy," he said, gasping as he spoke, "I d- didn't come for... the loot. That is what I to- told the others so they would follow. I was paid to cl- clear out the cult after th- their usefulness had expired." He had a fit of coughs, then continued, "Burke didn't want any wit- witness- w..." Coherence was lost in the coughs. Soon flecks of blood were visible coming from the man's mouth.

"Where is Burke now?" He pulled out a stim from the cavity in his armor where he kept medical supplies. "I'll heal you if you tell me!"

He was bluffing, being irritable from his lack of chems there was no way he was going to actually show sympathy, but he hoped the ploy would get information. It didn't. "Ha, you think I be- believe that?" His voice was growing softer as he said, "Fuck you. I'll tell you this, you b- bastard. All of you are go- going to follow me within... a m- month. You have no... idea what f- forces... Burke's... un... leashed." With that, he died.

Moving along, Cornelu picked up a 10mm pistol one of the raiders had dropped and used it to put a bullet into the heads of any other survivors. Then he went to help the other two clear the entrance, hauling a body over each shoulder while the others had one between them. They made fast progress.

"Atom, this smells horrid," the woman said.

"I can't really tell," Cornelu replied. "With the helmet and all."

After a second of awkward silence, because it had come out in a superior tone that Cornelu had not meant, the other man mumbled, "I need to get me one of those."

Everyone chuckled and the tension eased. "What's your name again? Lucas listed everyone already, but I'm not that good with names."

"I'm Crazy. Crazy Wolfgang." Pointing over his shoulder to the woman he said, "She's Lilith, my bodyguard. Or at least she was. We were a merchant caravan, but now that I can't pay her she'll probably slip away sometime in the night." He spoke seriously, but there was a devious smirk on his face.

"Oh shut up, you know I'm not going anywhere," Lilith said lightly, smacking him on the arm with one hand and maintaining a grip on the body they were carrying with another. "Don't listen to him, he's just up to no good. Like always. I'm much more than his _bodyguard, _that is for damn certain, and if I'm supposed to be getting paid that's news to me. I've talked to Nova before, so I know that _t__hose _services don't come cheap, mister." She poked him sharply in the back and they exchanged a very meaningful glance that made Cornelu feel intrusive, for some reason. Then she cleared her throat and said, "So, uh, what about you?"

"I'm just trying to make my way through the wasteland without getting killed." Then he though of his dad and decided it wouldn't hurt to ask. "Actually, I'm also looking for my dad. His name's James. He's a doctor, middle aged, last seen in a white lab coat, a few inches taller than me, brown hair a little lighter than mine, green eyes. Seen anyone like that?"

They thought for a second. "No, but we'll spread the word around."

"Thanks."

The rest of the work passed in silence, and when they ran out of bodies they went around to where the raiders had tried to flank them and started hauling them away as well. A pile of weapons and ammo accumulated as they searched the dead. The raiders had been very well equipped, for raiders, but the guns were still in terrible states of neglect and the explosion had ruined some as well. The total loot was five battered assault rifles, eight pistols of varying make, model and condition, four of the bolt action rifles that on average were of better condition than the other firearms, one and a half of the shotguns like the one Crazy was holding, one severely melted sniper rifle, a missile launcher that had been used to blow the hole in the wall for the second attack and, to Cornelu's delight, doses of medicine and drugs including a few canisters of that mysterious substance he had discovered two days earlier. He pocketed all that he found quickly before the other two noticed. It almost made him ache to leave the pile that they had collected, but there were not as many of the red canisters and they would have gotten suspicious. When they were done they carried the guns, ammo, drugs and other supplies back inside and set them in a corner. The guns especially needed to be fixed before they could be passed out to be used for defending the group.

They joined the group again and they saw that Simms was back, sitting in the one real chair at the end of the fortified area just outside the back room. Cornelu passed along the information and the warning from the dying raider leader. As Crazy and Lilith departed he noticed the other two were acting a little impatient, and as soon as the work was done they quickly went off towards a secluded part of the store. Cornelu did not want to think about that too much, because he suddenly was overcome with a wave of loneliness. It piled on top of the hungry feeling that was causing his shakes, and all together he felt miserable.

He passed through to the back room, where a few people were filling in the hole in the wall with rubble. He recognized some, most he didn't. He thought about it, and wherever the next stop for the refugees was, it would probably be his next stop as well. A weak spot like a giant, weakly patched hole in the store's defenses just about condemned it as impossible to defend, so he couldn't stay here alone.

Zoiks was lying on her side on the mattress, facing the strangers with her eyes closed. Deciding that with all he had done he at least deserved a nights sleep on the relative comfort of the floor, as opposed to sleeping in Armor like he had been doing for far to long, he started on the laborious task of removing the black metal plates from his body. By the time he was done the hole was blocked up and everyone left, so he quickly snatched a container of the magic drug from a pocket in his armor, brought it to his lips and pressed the plunger.

"What awe you doing?"

* * *

Zoiks watched as Cornelu jolted up, then started coughing as the gas got caught in his airways. Turning to her, his temperature flared and he looked slightly off to the left, tell tale signs of a lie. "Uh, I've been feeling a bit sick, and this should help. My dad was a doctor and he taught me quite a bit about medicine, so I know what I'm talking-

"You'w whying."

He started to panic, and next he tried what she could tell was an obvious diversion tactic, to act affronted. "No, I'm not. I spent most of my childhood in his clinic and I was learning sutures and triage by the-

"That id not what you awe whying about. That id not med-i-thin. You awe addicted. Dat expwains why you were shaking, and your feber."

He glanced at the door, nervously making sure it was shut so no one could overhear. Suddenly she realized this is not a good situation for her to be in. Desperate, cornered and hyped up on whatever that stuff was, Cornelu could easily become violent. Slowly, she extended her arm and pawed the shotgun in the wagon next to the mattress, ready to grab it in case he attacked.

He looked up then, and his next statement was more fearful than deranged and angry, so she relaxed a bit. "You noticed me shaking? And, wait... I have a fever? How could you know that? I was encased in metal."

"Uh, I..." She trailed off, not knowing how to answer.

"Also, when I found you I saw a rather large bump on you neck that looked metal, what is that?"

Deciding to just come out with it so he understands, she said, "Dat id a NIPC dat is connected to my brain. And de reason I could tell your feber id because my eyes awe mechanicaw and dey can see heat."

He took a moment to comprehend this, then asked, "So you're not human?"

She took some offense to this, so she let it show in her tone. "I'm human, I just hab a few metaw parts. I was made in a lab."

"Uh, that is not good. People wouldn't be very accepting of you if they knew. They have an annoying tendency to discriminate for no reason." She paled at this. Why would people be mad at her? it's not like she could control it. Cornelu continued, cutting off her thoughts, "Okay, look, I think we can make a deal here. I saved you and the rai- Sam, so you owe me a favor. No one needs to know about your, uh, _differences,_ as long as they don't find out about my _problem._ Then we'll call it even, okay?"

Not liking the idea, she stated, "But dis id bad fo' you. You hab to stop."

"I'm fine, I just need you to forget this ever happened. That's all. I saved you life, are you really going to turn me in after that? You owe me, and you need me to stay quiet as well."

Very unhappy with the situation, Zoiks angrily said, "Fine," before pointedly turning away from him.

Relieved from narrowly dodging that bullet, Cornelu turned away as well to go to sleep.

* * *

Cornelu woke to the sounds of moving people. The hit he took the night before hadn't sent him into a dizzying trip like the first time, it just made the shivers, his ever growing headache and that insatiable hunger deep in his chest go away. As he got up he noticed that these things hadn't come back yet, which was good, but he wasn't sure how long it would last.

He rose and donned Armor, which was turning into a habit now. He remembered how only a day or two ago he didn't put the metal suit on regularly, or much at all really, but now that the risk of attack was significantly increased it seemed foolish not to wear the protection. So he would endure putting it on. It was either the tight inner lining or the way the hydraulic muscles absorbed physical stress unevenly, but as he strapped and clamped the metal on that he noticed the sores, the chaffed and calloused skin and the slight bruising the armor left on him. He also felt the bigger bruises where bullets had slammed into him the previous night. He was still a little hyped and they did not yet feel as bad as the damage should, so he deemed the injuries to minor to use a stimpack on and ignored them.

Zoiks's head shifted so that he was in her line of sight as soon as he moved and he figured either she had already been awake or she had somehow sensed him in her sleep with her electronic parts. He wasn't sure which was more likely. Ignoring her, he opened the door and looked out to see about half of the refugees moving around, the rest still prone on the floor asleep. The ones that were awake were rolling up their horribly inadequate mats and blankets and stowing them in packs. He caught sight of Lucas and asked, "What's going on?"

"We're leaving. The raider attack last night meant that we've attracted attention already, we need to keep moving. Some of us still need to rest and eat, but I told the ones that are up and we're packing now."

"Alright, well I guess I'm going with you. The store is kind of ruined with the hole in the wall, if anyone wanted to get in I wouldn't be able to fight them off alone. So if you don't mind I think I'll stick with you guys, see if I can help."

Lucas looked at the strong young man that he knew was behind the metal in surprise. He was going to go with them? Who would want to join a ragged group of refugees? Looking around at the store and all of the work the kid had put into its defense, he added another a pang of grief to his troubles. The group's presence, _his _presence, had brought misfortune on someone who obviously had a handle on their situation, and now he was doomed to the fate of everyone else. "Alright, I'm certainly not going to turn anyone away. Sorry that us being here did this, I wish it hadn't happened this way."

Cornelu looked at the sadness in the sheriff's eyes and saw hope slipping away. This was obviously taking a major toll on the old man. Trying to provide some sort of comfort, he said, "It's fine, I was kind of getting sick of being cooped up here alone anyway. Just point me at something that needs to be done."

Looking around, Simms answered, "I don't know if there is anything yet. We could use all the food we can get, so a way to carry more would be helpful."

"I was working on a robot to carry my stuff around. It's not even close to finished though, with everything that's been going on I haven't worked on it in a few days."

"We don't need anything fancy, how long will it take to get it functional?"

"Well that depends on what you mean by 'functional.' I can get wheels on it in a few minutes, if we have three hours I can get the motor working so it will push itself, and in a day or two it would be able to navigate obstacles and follow us on it's own power."

"We have until the last sleeping person wakes up and gets ready. How heavy is it? If you can get it to roll smoothly, can we just pull it behind us?"

"Yes, that can be arranged. I just need to slap some bars on the sides so we can pull it like a handcart."

The sheriff shot a confused glance at him. "A what?"

"Oh, nothing. It's something I read about in the V- when I was younger. I'll get to work now."


	17. 3: Ch 5: Enter Sandman

Chapter 5: "Enter Sandman" by Metallica

With that Cornelu went to the workshop. The beginnings of the new and improved Box was sitting next to the workbench, where he had dumped it when he found Armor. He half rolled, half dragged the carcass out and started inspecting it for damage. It consisted of a bare metal frame three feet wide and four and a half feet long, with short walls only about two feet from the bottom of the cargo area. The space below the cargo area where the wheels and treads would go were empty and the driving mechanism underneath was only half put together. The first thing he did was slid under and disconnect the work he had done on the driving mechanism, essentially putting Box into neutral gear. Then out of a small pile of wheels that he had collected he found three that were similar and put them on, two in the back and one in the front. For the forth he put in a smaller wheel, which would make pulling it more difficult but there was nothing he could do about it. He hadn't even started on weaving small strips of metal to make the treads, so he figured they would have to go without. Treads wouldn't fit anyway because of the one odd wheel. Because it was just a skeleton and would not hold anything yet, he took sheets of scrap metal that he had already shaped to fit and put them in for the bottom and sides. Finally, he found two long and narrow metal rods and wedged them between the siding panels and the crude frame, bending them at the ends so they would not slide out and angling them so they could be used to pull the contraption.

Finished, Cornelu stood back and inspected his work. The odd wheel gave it a tilt, the two hand rods to pull the thing were of different metals, colors and lengths and the walls were pitted with corrosion. He concluded that it looked like shit. Remembering the original Box that it was based off of and seeing how shiny and perfect it was in his mind's eye, he was suddenly overcome with emotion. He remembered the sleek and tetanus free world of the Vault. Why did the world outside have to be so... destroyed? Why did he have to do the best he could with salvaged rusty hunks of crap when mankind had the capability of constructing things that where clean, pure and wholesome? Perfect, even?

Pushing these thoughts from his head, he began filling Box with food from the shelves. As he was just covering the last of the floor space, however, he looked up at the computer that sat on one corner of his workbench. The backup of armor's AI and the locomotion scripts for Box were on there, along with the journal-like notes he had recently started recording. Box was plenty big, and the lightweight metals of the computer probably made it less heavy than an equal sized box of food, so he cleared out a large enough space and put it on the floor of the storage area. Remembering now that Box was originally supposed to carry all of his stuff, he went and quickly sorted through the wooden crates where his belongings were and thought about what to include with the food.

Cornelu found the 10mm pistol that Amata had given him before he left the Vault and a surge of memories came back to him. It unsettled him, and for a second he was back in the cozy Vault with nothing to fear and the freedom to be blindly infatuated with someone. Then he brushed the matter out of his mind. He was not in that fake place, he was in the real world and there were real problems that needed to be attended to. The gun and it's ammo he put aside to give to one of the unarmed refugees. He also found the two energy smaller pistols and the 10mm pistols he had accumulated since leaving the vault. The two that had silencers were now of rather good condition because he had taken the rest apart and put the best parts together. One more was barely serviceable and the rest were still disassembled, and near the guns were a few boxes of 10mm ammo, cells for the energy weapons and the last grenade and mines from when he had first assaulted the store. These he put with the other weapons to give to anyone who needed them.

Moving on to the second crate he found his green combat armor, seven stimpacks, one med-x the bottles of pure water that he had filled in the Vault and the bag of bottlecaps, all of which was much too valuable to put where everyone was going to be rifling through for their favorite food and might stumble upon it. After locating the old backpack that he had carried most of his things in he removed all of the food. Then he filled it with the medicine, caps and water, taking care to arrange them so that nothing would easily break. He thought about the combat armor and decided that since he had Enclave armor he didn't need it, but it was to valuable to just give away so he set it aside and thought about it while he continued to work.

He noticed that Zoiks had gotten up and started getting ready as well, putting her and Sam's things into the rusted red wagon she had before piling on food from the shelves. Going back to Box, he finished up by filling the last of the floor space with the food, then covering that with more food. From start to finish packing took him only ten minutes, so when Lucas poked his head in and asked if he was done Cornelu said, "Yes." He rolled the contraption out of the room and saw that all of the refugees were up and almost everyone was ready to go. He also noticed that the people still looked very thin, even after the food from yesterday. Letting the cart down, he went back into the room and retrieved the weapons he was going to hand out and an armful of food. As he passed out the food he asked if the person receiving it had a sufficient weapon and distributed the extra pistols in this way.

He found Stevie, Stockholm and Harden, Simm's son, pursuing a similar goal near the main entrance. Under their guidance the number of useable weapons in the pile of battered guns from the raiders was shrinking, while the quality of the finished bullet-throwers was increasing proportionally. When he reached them and they looked up he had run out of pistols to pass out, so after he gave them a stack of food Stevie pointed him to the refurbished raider guns and the ammo that they had also sorted and loaded into empty clips. When he was done handing out the five pistols, three bolt-action rifles, two assault rifles and the barely functional combat shotgun, everyone was armed with at least a pistol and there were a few extra handguns to put in reserve on top of Box if any needed to be replaced.

Before for Cornelu knew it, Simms was organizing everyone and Box was being dragged by Wolfgang and a young man who's name Corenlu thought was Perez. Moria was on a litter behind the group's protectron while Zoiks had fashioned a similar setup with Sam and the store protectron. Going back into what had been his bedroom and workplace, Cornelu grabbed the combat armor and made one last sweep for things that might be useful, then followed as the last of the Megaton refugees filed out the front door and into the parking lot.

It was still morning, but the sun was high enough in the sky to assure everyone that there was a long day ahead of them. And who knew how many more after that.

* * *

Zoiks stumbled. A loose rock gave way under her foot and for a second she lost her balance, but she righted herself quickly. Her sensors alerted her that the man to her right had reached out to help, but by the time the calloused hand was in range Zoiks was already walking unassisted again. Zoiks pretended she hadn't noticed.

This was how it had been for two days. She was wary of the other travelers and hadn't spoken more than monosyllabic answers to the few curious questions she received. The night before, camped in and around a burned out house, her name had been called for watch duty with the man Stockholm for the first shift and somehow his focused demeanor had not felt awkward or at all excluding. There had been no open hostility from anyone and the group seemed to have an unspoken agreement that the more people the group had, the more protection there would be for everyone. Zoiks didn't know why she had even followed the group as they left the store. As everyone was leaving she had panicked at the thought of being left alone with raiders around, so she packed up and went with the refugees.

She also wasn't sure why she was being so standoffish. The man had obviously been trying to help just now, and with the exception of one of the men with the white guns who had said some very suggestive things, everyone who had tried to converse with her had been polite. She actually surprised herself when she hadn't run in fear when the offensive old man approached her, before she had been given enough time to think two women tore him a new one, finishing their intense verbal assault with a threat that if he didn't back off they'd "rip his dick off." Then one of the women, introducing herself as Lucy, advised her to ignore the man's words and to make sure she had a gun on her at all times. Zoiks had thanked her in a small voice and turned away.

Now they were heading northwest. They had crossed the river at the bridge near the store and, although they had stayed in sight of it, they did not follow the Potomac for fear of mirelurks. The sheriff was at the head of the column. The handcart, at least that is what everyone was calling it, was a little bit behind him. There was a loose circle around the metal food hauling contraption and the rest of the group followed behind that, gradually tapering out with any stragglers bringing up the rear.

She kept herself up closer to the front, both because it was easier to be picked off if you were at the back and because one of the straggler's skin was rough and patchy, with pieces missing and muscle visible underneath. Sometimes when they stopped she caught snatches of conversation between Simms, Stevie, Cornelu and a few others about where they were going and it didn't reassure her. They kept their voices down so most couldn't hear that they had only vague ideas about where they were going, but her ears picked it up easier.

There was a small hillside on the north edge of the river with small ravines and tributaries, so when they stopped for the night a little after sunset it was easy to find a place that was half decent defensibly. Zoiks listened from the back while Simms addressed everyone about the arrangement of the night watch. She noticed that his gun was still the same as the one she had seen him use at the store, but it was darker now as if it had been painted. That reassured her slightly. They had obviously done that for her, and the sign of acceptance made her feel better.

She waited until they were done naming who would be on watch and when her name wasn't called she went over and unhooked Sam from the protectron that was dragging him, then laid him down near the unoccupied end of the gully they were staying in. She finally laid down nearby on some cloth that passed for a blanket she had been given by one of the refugees (they had a little more than the original group had needed). She fell asleep hoping that the group's presence would keep her safe.

She was right... sort of.

_She was walking down a long hallway, made all of a smooth gray stone, when suddenly it came to an end. A massive room loomed before her, skinny windows running along the left side while on the right torches in brackets mirrored the light streaming in from a warm summer sun. With a blink the lights dimmed to the point where she could barely see anything. She stepped forward onto what had been an inviting and cozy hall and fell through where the floor had been. Panic flooded through her and she started to flail._

_Then she found herself sitting on a carved granite thrown. Below her was Sam, chiseling away at the base of the princely seat of power with a look of defeat of his face and a slave collar around his neck. Looking at herself, she saw there was a whip in one hand and a normal, brown assault rifle in the other. Without her controlling it, the hand with the whip lashed out and words that were not her own escaped her mouth, not muffled or slurred. "You are going to help me weather you like or not because I am in control here!" The broken, washed up raider cowered and quickened his pace. With a sense of deja vu, she knew he would fumble the chisel. He did, and she futilely tried to hold her hand back as the whip jumped for Sam's neck. She could only watch helplessly a it wrapped around his soon to be severed neck._

_But then Stevie was there, and he wrenched the horrible instrument from her grip. Casting her to the ground from the tower-like thrown, he raised the assault rifle she had previously held and said, "I'm not letting anyone be subjected to such treatment." After an terrifying second of inactivity in which she found she was paralyzed, though from fear or something else she was not sure, she saw a flash of gunfire. For some nonsensical reason the last thought she had was that if she had worn armor she would have been able to survive._

* * *

Cornelu woke up abruptly when Zoiks screamed. It was soft and quickly cut short, only Armor's sensors made it detectable. Fearing someone had snuck into the camp and was stealthily killing refugees, he jumped up and looked around. At the back of the camp, Zoiks was sitting straight up on her bedding and gazing out over the dim light of the camp with scared eyes. She seemed shaken, but she wasn't jumping to her feet with a gun in her hand so it didn't look like she had noticed raiders or any sort of attack. The noise she had made upon waking hadn't been loud enough to disturb anyone else's sleep. Deciding to see what was wrong, he crept around the prone former Megaton residents toward her.

"What's wrong?" He asked when he was in whispering range. She shook her head at him in a dismissal as if she didn't want to talk, but he queried, "Did you have a nightmare?"

She looked up sharply at him, but then relaxed and said in a frail voice, "Yes. It was about... swabers."

Hoping to somehow turn this to his advantage so that he could be more confident about Zoiks's silence on certain subjects, he lightly pressed on. "What about them? They couldn't hurt anyone here you know, with all of the people to defend and Simms and Stevie to lead."

She gave him a look again, as if she was annoyed that he was intruding, but then she kept talking. "I had a dream about Sam being my swabe. Then Stebie took me away and kiwwed me because I was eve-eww." She wiped at her eyes then and he wondered if she was capable of producing real tears. "I can't hewp feewing it means I am eve-eww and shouwd be dead. My brain is tewwing me I shouwd die." A second passed and he didn't know what to say, but she continued in a slightly rougher voice. "And no one is going to wive anyway because we awe going to be shot and everyone is going to die and I won't wast wong so I won't need to wurry."

By the time she stopped she was quietly sobbing, hugging her legs close with her chin resting on her knees. The raw emotion was more than Cornelu was prepared for and he found himself feeling sorry for the scared young woman next to him. Since she had disclosed the details of her modified frame and intelligence his perception of had been of a semi-human _thing_. It was obvious that she was much more human and the metal parts were really just additions and enhancements, not core elements. He deftly undid the fastenings to the gauntlet on his right hand and carefully reached his arm out to pat her shoulder. She didn't react visibly to the touch and he wondered if he was doing more harm than good so after a few seconds he retracted.

Then Cornelu had an idea. "If you are worried about surviving, I've got some armor that I don't need. It's a little big, but with a bit of sewing and handiwork I think I can get it to fit well enough. Just if you really want some protection and peace of mind." Zoiks met his eyes and they both realized with a bit of surprise that he was being sincere, with no hidden agenda in mind.

Wiping her eyes again, she said, "Um... thanks. That wouwd make me feew a bit safer."

Cornelu got up and fetched the combat armor from where he had left it, near where he had been sleeping. Carrying it around all day hadn't been very bothersome because Armor took the weight, but it was a little awkward to have in his hand all the time and it had attracted some resentful stares from refugees who didn't have any armor. Now he brought it over and set it beside Zoiks.

Not knowing what to do after that, he started to leave. "Wait!" He heard Zoiks say behind him. He turned. "Um.. I was... wondering if you wouwd sweep cwoser to here. I think it might hewp me sweep better." She had a strange look in her eye, like she was acting on an instinct that she didn't even quite understand herself.

"Okay." With that he laid down about five feet from her bedding and went to sleep. Zoiks had no more nightmares that night.


	18. 3: Ch 6: Fonz Pond

AN/ Decided to play around a little bit with POV. We've got more characters now. We should use them :)

* * *

Chapter 6: "Fonz Pond" by Insane Clown Posse

Simms woke up early after a fretful night's sleep and forced himself not to slide back into unconsciousness. The earlier they set off, the less chance they would be spotted leaving by anyone watching the camp in the dark. He had forbidden any lights or fires after dark to try and keep as low a profile as possible, and had a small feeling of pride as he got to his feet and saw that his words had been followed to the letter. It was washed away quickly when the events of the past few days crashed on him again like a wave. Sighing a deep, exhausted sigh, he went about waking everyone up. They had found shelter just as dusk was falling the previous night, so most people woke easily and well rested after the several hours of uninterrupted rest.

Soon the group was up and moving. He set Stevie and Jericho at the lead and moved along the ramshackle caravan, inspecting everyone for injury or illness with a quick eye before moving on. The wear of the journey was taking the worst toil in the young and old. Maggie, Harden, Gob, Walter and Jericho were almost always out of breath. Lucy, who had been keeping a watch over Maggie since Billy was killed, asked him if they could slow down for a while but he told her they had to keep up the pace. It was strange, he felt the refusal add to his burden, but compared to everything else its extra weight was almost imperceptible. Continuing down the line he noticed Zoiks was wearing the armor that Cornelu had been carrying the previous day. At least he had given it to someone, people had been getting annoyed that he had more than he needed and wasn't sharing.

Seeing Zoiks, he expected she would shrink away like she usually did, but then remembered that Stevie had painted his gun so it wouldn't scare her like it used to. When she met his eyes he felt another small victory for being able to help her function. Everyone in the group needed to be as capable as possible, and with the shotgun in her arms, assault rifle on her back and armor on her body, Simms thought it would be a terrible waste if she froze up in a fight because of the color or model of a gun.

Once he was done making sure no one was going to drop dead, he went to the front again. He sent Jericho to stay near the handcart, getting a juvenile response for his efforts, and then had Stevie, Crazy, Cornelu and Walter, the old caretaker of the Megaton water purifier, come up to the front to continue the discussion from yesterday about where they were going.

Stevie started off the debate. "Look, Simms, we need to find someplace, anyplace, to at least stop and rest, if not to stay permanently. I told you I know of a small settlement to the west that we could stop by. We might be able to trade for things we need there, and the people will be grateful to have a few more guns around to defend them."

He had heard it all the day before and responded the same. "I'm not dragging any more people into this. We have raiders on our tails, and what if while are there we are attacked and people die? They will be in more danger if we go."

Then Crazy said, "Stevie is right, we need a place to settle down, and if we don't settle soon then we will need a place to sleep safely before moving on. This Bigtown that Stevie talks about could fill either or both of these needs. We can't just wander around until everyone has been picked off."

Before Simms could dispute, Walter, voice gravelly with age, put in, "I agree. I think we should at least stop there to trade, if not than spend the night. We're already feeling the strain of being on the road, and we've only slept out here twice."

Seeing he was outnumbered, he finally relented. "Okay, fine," he said. "Stevie, you lead, you're the only one who knows where this place is."

The day passed on with a few more bumps than the two days before. In the morning a small group of super mutants spotted them. The green brutes were poorly equipped, so when they charged the group weathered it with only two small wounds and nicked armor. After that the handcart stopped rolling and it took Cornelu ten minutes to fix before they could set off again. Around when the sun was at the peak of it's path two Yao Guai crept up on them from behind and attacked the first thing they could get to that moved. Luckily that happened to be Deputy Steel, the Mr. Gutsy that had been salvaged from the armory of Megaton. By the time the mutated bears realized there was no meat on their prey and moved towards their next potential victim, everyone was spraying bullets into the beasts. The only loss was the robot.

Yao Guai meat is famous for being able to sustain people for long periods of time and there was no way to store the meat so they stopped to both rest and to cook and eat the animals. Getting the meat off was a bit of a problem, but Stockholm and Stevie had some experience in the field and Cornelu took an interest in watching the first cleaning so he could help with the second. Because of this the stop didn't take too long. A half hour after the attack everyone was back up and moving again. Everyone felt better with full stomaches, a pleasant aftertaste in their mouths and senses sharpened by the potent natural chemicals in the food.

Taking advantage of this, Simms quickened the pace. The extra boost gave Gob enough energy to keep up, Jericho was manipulated into pushing his own lazy ass a bit harder with a comment about a ghoul being tougher than he was and when Maggie couldn't keep up Simms had Perez carry her. Because of this planning, a bit of flat plateau above the river and no attacks of any kind, they almost doubled their normal speed for a while.

As the sun started to droop, whatever was in the meat began wearing off. They had made good progress and soon Stevie aimed them off the flat land, down the rocky hillside towards the river. He said the place they were headed was just on the other side of the river, but the crash from the boost of energy in the meat made everyone in need of a rest. Simms called for a halt, then climbed up onto a protruding boulder and scanned the horizon in a circle before looking down to address the group.

He raised his voice above the babble that was starting to bubble up around him. "Everyone! We made good progress today. We don't have far to go, but we're going to have to wade through the river unless we can find a bridge so we'll need our strength. We have plenty of time before nightfall, probably an hour and half, so take a nice long break and grab something to eat if you're hungry. You can spread out if some of you want to sleep away from the racket, but make sure you don't go too far and don't go anywhere alone."

* * *

Zoiks kept her gaze on the hardened sheriff longer than most others, watching as he hopped down from the rock and went to relieve his son of the heavy burden on his back. He looked a little less pained as he momentarily cast off the role of leader and opened a box of cram next to his child. His eyes were still gaunt and dead, but a flicker of a smile passed over his face when the boy successfully opened the difficult packaging around a salisbury steak with a pocketknife, started a small fire of blackened wood and heated the food himself.

She started to feel intrusive, so she walked over to where Perez was distributing food from the handcart. She accepted a box of deviled eggs and went to eat them cold. She had found most food to be more appealing when heated, but didn't want to wait in line for a fire and she probably couldn't make one herself.

Just as she was finishing up, Jericho's voice from across the camp caught her attention. "Hey Ethyl! come look what I found over here!" A few heads turned as a woman got to her feet and scrambled through a copse of closely packed blackened tree trunks to follow the voice. Remembering what Simms said about not leaving alone, Zoiks got up to follow and bring them back. Cornelu seemed to have the same idea as he picked up his assault rifle and started after the woman. She jogged to keep up and soon she noticed the ground sloping down. Then the two came to a twisting, narrow asphalt path though the blackened forest that was completely eroded in some places. It was easy for both Cornelu and Zoiks to detect which direction the others had gone and they turned in pursuit. Zoiks stubbed her toe on a piece of wood, and she saw the words _Lickety Trail _carved into the broken sign before moving on. A minute later the two came upon a secluded pond with dead trees concealing it from the rest of the world. Three sides sloped up and were lost in the trees, one slopped down towards the river and looked like a dry stream bed. In the middle was a pool of eerily still water. The water was clearer than any Zoiks had ever seen, but the black ground below it seemed to suck in light and made determining a depth impossible for even her modified eyes. Around the sides between the dead trees and the water had a smattering of plant life, reeds with unsightly bulges from mutations and the occasional bright, deformed mushroom. At the exact border between solid and liquid she could see strange scoops had been pulled out of the sides of banks, as if the hole had been enlarged at some point by something that dug from inside the water.

Jericho was standing next to the pond on a beach-like area devoid of the unnatural vegetation with his shirt and gun in a pile on the ground and a hand working on the fastenings of his pants. "Come on Ethyl, wanna have some fun in here. It's so clear, I don't think it's even radioactive." Then he spotted Zoiks and Cornelu and said, "You two come to join, huh?" He gestured at Zoiks and continued, "Glad to see you brought your own, I'm not sharing."

"No, actually we came to tell you guys you need to get your asses back to the group. We are way to far from Simms to be safe." Jericho's implication had clearly offended him as much as it had Zoiks because his tone showed clear irritation.

"Then run back to daddy Simms then, I'm not doing shit. Come on Ethyl, I dare you to jump in." As he said this he shamelessly dropped his pants so he was in only ragged undergarments before dipping his foot in to see how deep it went. She put down the 10mm pistol she carried and started towards Jericho with a lusty glint in her eye.

Zoiks had a retort but before she could say anything a movement in the water caused a slight bulge near the center of the pond. Before she could get a good look it was gone and the ripple from Jericho's leg washed over the spot.

"Watch out!" she screamed at the same time that Cornelu yelled, "Something moved!"

Ethyl jumped back from the water. Jericho looked back at the two and said, "What the fuck is wrong with you? Run back to _Sheriff _Simms if you want, but you assholes aren't ruining our fun by scaring us away. Come on Ethyl, there's nothing to be afraid of. Unless you guys are gonna be a bunch of babypussies about it." With that he retracted his leg and dove into the water headfirst. Ethyl cast off the rest of her clothes with a disobedient sneer aimed at Cornelu and Zoiks and approached the water. There she hesitated, though. Jericho hadn't yet resurfaced. There was a second of tense silence before water rocketed into the sky and the arrogant, spiteful man burst from the water. Ethyl screamed, but then realized there was nothing wrong and threw herself into the water, hurling curses and threats at Jericho for scaring her.

Suddenly Jericho went under again, and a dark stain bloomed where he had been. Ethyl stopped, then said, "Jericho? Honey, you better not try and scare me again or I'm going to bite your god damn dick off." But Zoiks and Cornelu could see the rapidly swelling circle of blood originating from where the sick asshole had been, and the shadows that were writhing under the water.

"Get back! Get out of there!" Cornelu ran forward and grabbed Jericho's white gun, the dick had refused to let it be painted like Simms's and Stevie's, from the beach. Terrified, Ethyl swam as fast as she could back to shore and as soon as she was close enough to shoot over Cornelu started spraying the shadows that were right behind her. She emerged from the dark pool followed closely by a blue shell and pincers. She bolted for the trail as soon as she was free of the water, so Cornelu backpedaled while he kept up a hail of bullets.

Zoiks mentally recoiled from the white gun, but she saw his situation and forced herself to ignore the irrational fear. She raised her shotgun at the mirelurks that were swarming out. The impact from the combined firepower pushed the hard shelled creatures and held them back for a few seconds, and the two took the opportunity to run up the path into the bramble of dead trees.

Through the tight spaces they easily outpaced the lumbering giant crab-things and by the time Zoiks detected the camp the blue monsters were far behind them. Turning off the path, they headed back to camp, thoroughly shaken by their trip on Lickety Trail.


	19. 3: Ch 7: In The Ghetto

Chapter 7: "In The Ghetto" by Elvis Presley or "Village Ghetto Land" by Stevie Wonder

Cornelu and Zoiks returned to see the group jumping up and grabbing guns. Ethyl had obviously run in screaming, or something similar. Panicking, one woman who's name he believed was Lucy turned at the sight of someone emerging from the dead trees, pushed Maggie, the child she was watching, behind her and fired. Cornelu felt a bullet whiz by his shoulder and yelled, "Stop! It's us!" Not hearing, the woman ejected a casing from the bolt-action rifle she held and aimed for another shot. Before she could fire again Stevie shoved her gun upwards so she would not hit anyone. By this time she caught on and lowered the gun, a look of extreme shame crawling across her face.

"Sorry! Oh my god, I am so sorry," she said to them, coming to meet them as the two reentered camp. Again and again she repeated her apology.

Cornelu was irritable for several reasons. All day his paranoia about someone finding out his addiction had been increasing. Then he had almost been killed by mirelurks because an idiot decided to go swimming. As the adrenalin from that started fading and the shakes were returning he was shot at by some woman who was to stupid to check her fire. And now adrenalin, withdrawal and anger were loose inside him, pulling him in every direction at once. Rather harshly he said, "Next time check to see what you're shooting at. Now go away, I need to talk to Simms." Recoiling slightly, she apologized twice more before walking away. Cornelu and Zoiks continued on to see the sheriff. "Simms," he said, "We ran into a large group of blue crab-things. They got Jericho, he's dead. I think we lost them but it would be safest to get going."

"Alright," he raised his voice and yelled, "Everyone! Pack up, we need to get going!" After Ethyl came running out of the woods everyone had started preparing for an attack, so breaking camp didn't take long at all. In two minutes the caravan of exiled and homeless survivors was advancing down the hillside toward the Potomac. When Stevie was set at the front to guide them to Bigtown, Cornelu saw Simms do a quick inspection of everyone before catching up with him and asking, "By the way, they're called mirelurks. So what did he find that he wanted to show off?"

"What?"

"Jericho. What did he find that he wanted to show to Ethyl?"

"Oh, he found a pond with really clear water. I don't think it was even radioactive. I believe he wanted to fuck in it." After a pause he said, "With things like that, no wonder everything pure in the world has been soiled. Turns out there was some sort of, uh mirelurk nest at the bottom."

After that the conversation died out. Cornelu inspected his new gun. Judging by how it slowed down charging mutant crab-things, it had a lot of stopping power. Much more than the worn raider rifle he had been toting. That he passed off to Lilith. As a bodyguard she could probably put it to good use, and he kind of liked Crazy and Lilith. They were nice people. Odd, but nice.

Looking down at the white assault rifle in his hands, he remembered that Zoiks had a phobia of it. With this in mind he rummaged around in Box, much to the annoyance of Stockholm and Lilith, who's turn it was to pull the contraption, until he found the small can of dark grey paint that Stevie had painted Simm's gun with and applied the same treatment to his new weapon. It was difficult because he had to disassemble the gun and paint the white parts with nothing but a crude brush of hair while still keeping up and not leaving himself unarmed, and the whole time half of his attention was needed to ignore the shaking slowly spreading through his limbs. He managed to finish just before the group reached the river.

There were no intact bridges in sight, so Stevie led the group to a spot where the river bent to cross. The water reached knee hight at the maximum here, but it was slightly wider and the radiation from crossing the toxic water didn't help the already irradiated refugees. Cornelu realized that just about everyone needed a strong dose of radaway, and for a second he feared for the group as a whole. There was nothing he could do, having already depleated his own stock of the medicine using it on himself right after the explosion and then the refugees later, so he put it out of his mind.

Pulling Box across the uneven riverbed through flowing water was difficult, but Simms organized four people to pull on the front of the metal contraption while he, Cornelu, pushed it and they managed to power through the sluggish current. It got under his skin that everyone had taken to calling Box 'the handcart,' but he didn't really care all that much about a name and just did what was needed.

Then they were across the flowing water and Stevie said Bigtown was close. A few minutes passed before a cluster of low, wide houses came into view. Between several of the run down huts ran a ten foot wall made of rusting cars and other debris. The wall was poorly constructed and had medium sized holes strewn throughout it, not big enough to slip through but big enough to detect frenzied movements within.

With the sight of the town came sounds of gunfire and everyone hurried in case it was under attack. Deftly led directly to the entrance through the derelict buildings, the group quickly came upon a fight between the poorly equipped residents of the settlement and supermutants. The hulking abominations had a few guns scattered among them, but for some reason instead of killing they were using improvised clubs and brick-like fists only and grabbing those who came too close. A detachment of three already had prisoners and were leaving the town across a rickety bridge over a ditch with their charges in tow.

Simms yelled, "Start with the closest one! Careful not to hit the people!" Stevie, Walter and Lucy were in front and concentrated their fire on the nearest supermutant, then moved to the second and third once it dropped. The mutants dropped the wires that they led the prisoners by and reached for weapons, which gave the captives a chance to hit the ground and get out of the line of fire. Before the mutants could get off a shot, the two remaining eight foot tall captors fell next to the first. Simms wasted no time, barking orders as soon as the troop was eliminated, "Stockholm, Cornelu, Gob, Crazy, Lilith. Follow! Stevie, trace the wall around and bring everyone. Cover any entrances you see and cover us through the walls." Cornelu did as told, running across the wooden bridge single file between Stockholm and a corpse-looking person who he assumed was Gob. Simms was first across and opened fire on a group of four monsters that were trying to break into a house. They turned and charged with nothing but melee weapons, their long strides bringing them very close very fast. Corenlu did his fair share of shooting, noticing quickly that the undercurrent of withdrawal that was always with him was greatly affecting his aim and blurring his vision slightly, so he forced himself to stay on target. The others had a collective five guns, two fully automatic guns, two bolt action rifles and Wolfgang had his shotgun, so the rushing mutants took a hell of a beating before reaching them. Three fell, but one got close enough to swing its iron pipe at them. Just before the metal rod was close enough to do damage one of Wolfgang's shotgun shells brought the mutant down, but as it swung the pipe flew out of its grip and collided with the former merchant's side. As he fell to the ground, the last of the mutants down the street opened fire with the few guns they had and Cornelu saw a bullet hit Stockholm's combat armor.

Armor's sensors allowed him access to more detail than a normal person, so he saw with clarity Stockholm's body jolt from the impact to his left shoulder, then him straightening himself, aiming down the sights of his hunting rifle and blowing a hole through the big green head of the being that had shot him.

Lilith was standing over Wolfgang's prone form in seconds, protective as a mother lion as she hurled lead in bursts at another group down the street.

There were six more enemies spread around the town, not counting the one lacking a head. They all turned at the attacking humans and Cornelu realized that if they stayed where they were the supermutants would overwhelm them. "Simms, we need to find cover!" The sheriff heard him and started sidestepping to the right, where a short sandbag wall could provide some protection. Everyone followed, crouching behind the sandbags while the green abominations came up the street at them. Two happened to have been closer than the others and were neutralized before reaching them, but the four remaining came as one solid wall. Cornelu realized it would be impossible for the humans to pump bullets fast enough to kill all four of the juggernauts and if even one got close enough to hit them it would wreak havoc and one or more people were going to die. To top it off, the disorientation for the chems was also undermining his moral.

Just as Cornelu was about to call a retreat, Simms and the unofficial chain-of-command be damned, gunfire aimed at the charging mutants erupted from the gaps in the outer wall. Stevie and the others were shooting through the rusted cars and the holes in the walls, tearing into the thick headed brutes from the side. Three faltered, turning to attack the new threat but then realizing they could not smash the humans behind the wall. Because of the hesitation, the combined fire of everyone was able to finish off the supermutants.

* * *

Perez solemnly crossed the bridge of Bigtown, observing the carnage with a casually saddened face. He himself had help in some of it, utilizing the almost broken combat shotgun that Cornelu had issued to him a few days prior. It was a tragedy that these grotesque beings had been doomed to live in ignorance, that they had been driven by whatever primal instinct they had, whether hunger or some unknown need, to attack humans and that it had been necessary to put them down. This he acknowledged, unlike most of those around him who's primary psychological defense was akin to selective hearing. Suppressing the horrible and the gruesome and pretending it didn't exist was irrational and lead to a slow festering of the mind and morals, which was Perez's personal hypothesis about why there were so many raiders. Instead of blocking the harsh world out, he quietly accepted the bad and mourned it without letting sorrow or despair take him.

In front of and behind him filed the other former residents of the town of Megaton and the two captives that had been freed from supermutants. Now that the fight was over everyone was eager to cocoon themselves in the protection of the walls in case more of the green-skinned ravagers showed up. Simms called out to the surviving population of the settlement barricaded in the houses and they cautiously opened their doors. Soon the strangers were grouped around Simms and a few others exchanging greetings and discussing possible arrangements while the rest of the Megaton refugees sat to rest.

The humorless sarcasm and cynicism in the voices of the people said as much or more than the horrific stories they told about the heavy toll the wasteland was taking on them. Perez overheard one young man retell what had happened. "For a while the slavers had been bribed with prostitution and supermutant attacks had been held off, barely, but a month or two ago a cold spread and killed a few people. That thinned us out so when the mutants came to raid about a week ago we couldn't hold them back. They started coming into town more often after that to haul out people, only bothering to take one or two at a time because they knew we were beaten. You guys saved us, sure. For now. There'll be more muties soon, and we still can't protect ourselves from them. This whole place sucks. There's only two things to do in this town. Suck and die."

Simms didn't seem to disagree with the angry young man's pessimistic views. As the story was being told, more refugees had come over to listen. A shadow of despair fell over this group when the once-strong leader didn't dispute the foreboding words, and Perez immediately saw the grave need for words of encouragement. He was about to stand and attempt to sooth everyone when Stevie, obviously with the same idea, rose. "I understand everyone here lived through some tough times. Bigtown's problems have been bad for a long time, but here is a chance. You need people to defend, we need a place to settle down and start over. Let us stay here for a while and see if we can make this work. We have a little food with us and a few extra guns, so we are bringing something to the table."

This sparked a host of arguments. The Bigtown residents protested that they weren't going to let refugees take over their town. Some Megaton people loudly said that they thought Bigtown was just a pit stop and that everyone would be up and moving again tomorrow morning, and asked where the idea of staying had come from. Others expressed their dissatisfaction with the state of the town and used that as an argument to not stay. Still others were road weary and said they would take whatever they could get, they just wanted a place to sleep. Perez thought the essential aspect of a permanent place to settle down was an easily defensible position first and foremost. Society had basically be set back to feudal times. That meant that the measure of safety a person could be accurately measured by the thickness and composition of the walls that surround him and the number of people defending those walls. If a city was going to develop it needed a fortress, and he wasn't convinced Bigtown possessed that, but he didn't let himself get dragged into the heated debates because of the futility of such disagreements.

Simms broke through the chatter with a rather dramatic gunshot into the air. With finality he said, "Now I'm not too keen on pushing people from their homes, so moving in and joining up to travel together are both looking like bad options to me. But the people of Megaton can't take much more of this forced march. We need some rest, at least a day's worth. I hate to be forceful, but the reality is we outman and outgun you greatly. We're staying until tomorrow night at the earliest. If we can reach some sort of peaceful agreement, we might stay, however I'm not going to allow our presence to bring more harm than good. We can talk more about this later, my people need to sleep."

Perez, however, had no intention of retiring just then. Feeling compelled to both learn more about Bigtown and form a bit of a relationship between the two groups, he approached one of the captives that the group had rescued. Before he could say a word the man turned and said, "What do you think you're doing? Go away, you dirty Megaton'er!"

Sagely nodding his head sadly, he replied, "I am sorry to have disturbed you." As he turned he noticed heads turning as people heard his voice, but ignored them. His unique vocal tone had forever been the butt of jokes and ridicule, and Perez remembered a time when a comment or even a look like those he was receiving now would cause a feeling of shame inside him. Now his humble attitude was like a sheer cliffside, not allowing any of those feelings a purchase in his mind to climb up and reach him.

He was halted when a soft, dark skinned hand touched his shoulder. "Wait, ignore Shorty." He turned to see the other person, a woman, that had been saved from imprisonment. She wore a red jumpsuit and matching bandanna around her head. "He's just resentful that he couldn't save himself from those mutants. I'm Red." She held out the hand she had stopped him with in a gesture of greeting.

"I'm Perez," he replied, accepting the handshake. "I was just wondering if anyone from here would like to sit and share stories? It is the best way I know of exchanging information and it would be best for everyone if our two groups learned a bit about each other."

Red looked pleased and surprised at this, saying, "Yes I think that would be a very good way to ease any negotiations that might happen soon. I'm actually a doctor, so I have to go tend to any wounded first but I know some people who wouldn't mind talking to you. Hold on." She retreated into the small group of Bigtown residents and Perez waited.

Cornelu paced over in is black armor, making very little noise considering how heavy it must be, and asked, "Mind if I join? I've got some stories of my own to tell." He was followed by others who had the same intention, and by the time Red returned with two in tow there were five members of the Megaton caravan waiting; Perez, Cornelu, Zoiks, Lucy and Gob, the ghoul.

"There is nothing I can do in my group," the dark skinned doctor said when she returned, "and I wasn't sure if going into your camp would be a good idea."

Lucy spoke up then. "I'll take you to Wolfgang and Stockholm, they were injured in the fight today. Also, Moria was injured in the explosion and hasn't woken up yet. If there is anything you can..." The two women's voices shrank off into the distance as they went.

"We should find a place to sit down where we won't bother those attempting to sleep," Perez said, moving farther into the fort of metal and wood. There was something of a scrapyard in the corner farthest from the entrance and he stopped near there. Everyone sat and the conversation started almost at once.

Cornelu turned to Gob and, uncertainly, asked, "I don't mean to be rude, but what _are_ you?"

With a surprised look, as if no one had ever asked in such a gentle way, Gob started to explain about ghouls. He told of how they were products of radiation and that most people didn't live through the amounts of rads needed to begin ghoulification. Most of the ones that did survive physically did not mentally and turned into feral zombie-like creatures who attacked any non-ghoul creature.

Once the process started something happened to the human body that made the skin start to flake and slough off. It also mutated the entire body until more radiation actually fed the cells instead of harming them, and that a ghoul could actually heal better when exposed to rads. However that was also believed to increase the chance of a person going feral. Another condition that sometimes afflicted ghouls was immortality. Gob said that he knew a few ghouls who were pre-war people turned in the first blasts of the nuclear holocaust and have for some reason stopped aging. He wrapped up his explanation with the fact that non-feral ghouls were fiercely persecuted by most humans. Before the explosion he had basically been a slave to a man named Moriarty.

Then the two Bigtown residents introduced themselves. One was a dark woman named Kimba that could have been Red's sister, wearing a thin leather outfit that was more clothing than armor. The other was Dusty, the former guard for the main gate. They were the two Bigtown residents who had adequate weapons with hunting rifles.

Dusty was relieved that he didn't have to sit and stare at the wastes for hours on end. He told of nights spent watching the hulking shapes of supermutants trudging around, silhouetted on the top of the hill in front of the camp. Perez could tell the endless watch and constant fear had shaken the man's mind.

Kimba told more of Bigtown itself. Everyone learned of a place called Little Lamplight to the east that housed a self-contained group of kids. Everyone in Bigtown had come from there, and the only reason they had left was because at the age of sixteen kids were thrown out. There, Bigtown was a myth. Everyone upon leaving Little Lamplight had believed it was a safe, secure place with enough food to go around. There were endless comments from both Kimba and Dusty about the moment of devastation, when they realized they had nowhere to go but a beleaguered, undefended camp of starving people.

When they were done, the group turned to Perez. He had called for a storytelling session, so he felt compelled to share his own. He took a moment to collect his thoughts, then began in his girlish voice, "I grew up in the D.C. ruins. My parents were basically raiders. They had been mercenaries working with the group now known as Rielly's Rangers, before Rielly took charge and raised the moral requirements. When Rielly kicked them out they had enough caps and guns to set up their own little place in an abandoned building. It was soon after they moved into the building that they had me.

"A few years ago when I was fourteen the supermutant population started increasing. Eventually the building was overrun. There was a secret backdoor that lead out and a fortified bunker with the weapons. I was separated and I saw the exit, so I went that way. There was a narrow corridor leading to it with a few holes in the wall so it was possible to see into the building. I looked through one to see if my parents were coming and saw them backing away, retreating into the bunker room instead of the exit and shooting as they went. My mom was shot and fell, and when my dad reached the reinforced door he looked back at her. She was still holding the mutants off, so it might have been possible for him to drag her to safety. Instead, he took one look and slammed the door. I still don't know if he survived. I went out the back and started life on my own."

Perez took a breath, then continued, "Two years passed. I did anything I could to survive, mostly preying on raiders with the Chinese assault rifle I had from when I was with my parents. I went to Rivet City whenever I could and I learned about the Great War and why the world is the way it is today, and about the way it works and how it used to work. I learned about the human mind and how it processes things, and some basic medicine.

Not everything I did was so moral and good, however. There was one guy, now dead, who I was certain dealt guns to slavers. He paid well and in either food or caps, so I brought him any guns I could find. Then one day I went to see him and regulators had cleaned the place out.

"A while after that I was caught off guard by a very small group of supermutants and they managed to grab me. They took my stuff and tied me up, but not ten minutes later three wastelanders killed my captors. They found me and set me free, but wouldn't give me back my stuff and sent me away with nothing. I left D.C. after that because I knew I wouldn't be able to survive with no guns.

"I wound up at the Holy Light Monastery. They had all these religious practices and beliefs and I wanted to know if someone had just started making stuff up to get people to follow them or if there was some truth to the mission. The Apostles of the Holy Light assured me it was based on something tangible and pre-war so I joined, though I secretly took radaway so the idiotic radiation rituals wouldn't make me sick. I went through the motions until they let me examine the 'pre-war artifact' they based their religion off of. I read for days, which they saw as religious devotion. The book was confusing at first but I quickly discovered a wealth of knowledge about how humans think and act, and what motivates us, hidden in the metaphorical stories and figurative sayings. I learned once a person's mind is made up, arguing is pointless. The scripture also held instructions for improving one's self, and ways to combat the evils, or 'sins,' of the mind. None of this valuable material had been incorporated into the Holy Light Monastery's beliefs so I started disciplining myself the way the book said, outside the ways of the Monastery.

"Then I started getting suspicious. Many of the obviously figurative aspects had been taken literally in the beliefs. Most all of the practices and teachings had been taken from only the last chapter for some reason, and I noticed the book said nothing about radiation in any way. The leader, Mother Curie, seemed as if she was intentionally making certain parts up, but I wasn't sure why. Then she started changing things, proclaiming that the 'great division' was the way to ultimate salvation, and everyone started planning how to get to the bomb in town to 'send everyone to salvation.' What finally clued me in that she had something other than religious fanaticism motivating Curie was when I went up to Megaton one night and saw her meeting with a man in a white pre-war suit. I saw him give her a sack filled with coins, then it became obvious that the whole religion was a hoax and she was being paid to blow up the town. That was when I went to Simms and told him the Monastery was going to blow up the bomb. I'll let someone else tell the story of the journey from the ruins, I'm getting tired and I want to hear it from someone else's perspective."


	20. 3: Ch 8: Voodoo

Chapter 8: "Voodoo" by Godsmack

Throughout the stories, Cornelu was intrigued enough to almost forget about the growing ache in his head, the gnawing hunger that didn't come from his stomach and the jerky, involuntary movements his limbs made. The withdrawal effects were getting worse and he really needed some chems. He had run through the supply he had found on the dead raiders quickly, using every chance he was able to get away from the group until it ran out. Zoiks was next to him and cast him a stern knowing glance or two during the recollections but mostly ignored it.

Red and Lucy returned as Perez was finishing up. Red reassured the refugees, "There wasn't much for me to do. Stockholm has a small wound where the bullet pushed through his armor, but it stopped and barely broke the skin. Caused more of a bruise than a bullet wound, really. It was easy to clean up and bandage. Crazy had a mutant club his side, but his girlfriend already patched him up pretty well. There really isn't anything to do about that except hope he didn't break any ribs. Pulling off the cloth Lilith patched him up with would have done more harm than good, so I just left it." Ruefully, she added, "I just wish I could do something for Timebomb."

"Why, what's wrong with him?" Cornelu asked.

"He was hurt in an attack a few days ago. He was really roughed up and hit on the head and he's been unconscious ever since. I don't know what's wrong with him."

This brought back memories for Cornelu. He remembered reviewing a book about head trauma the night before he had been forcibly ejected from the Vault. Then all the time he had spent with his father, learning the art of medicine and healing. A pang of remorse hit him and he regretted not looking for James more. It had been a month, the missing father figure could be a hundred miles away or dead by now. If he had just searched around when he first got out of the Vault he might have had a chance. Oh well, the man had caused the whole situation in the first place. All Cornelu could do now was survive as best as he could out in the wastes.

Regretting that he had not previously thought to try and heal the wounded with his abilities in medicine, and figuring it would help him reconcile himself about the situation with his father to use the skills his father taught him, he said, "I'll take a look at him. Where is he?"

Red lead him away from the group toward a house. Inside he found a man lying unresponsively on a table. Taking Armor off so he could perform the delicate procedures drilled into him by his father, Cornelu started checking heart rate, relative temperature, pupil dilation and other things. His hands were quite shaky, and he was very aware that Red was watching him. This made the process rather stressful mentally but eventually he confirmed that the man was comatose and found several injuries scattered across the man's body. A bruise on his forehead was blooming like a magnificent jungle flower, a jagged slice ran across his left leg but had already been bandaged and Cornelu counted seven places where bullets had been removed from the flesh, though they had all missed vital organs. The worst was the man's chest, the smash on the head seemed to have been followed by a big kick to the torso because both collarbones had been broken and there was even more bruising. Thankfully they were clean breaks and they looked like Red had already set them. "Did you use any stims on him?" he asked Red.

"No, we ran out a few weeks ago."

"So did you use any on the others, Stockholm and Wolfgang?"

"Not stims. I've got med-x and some chems and I used-"

He looked up sharply. "Where?" he interrupted.

She gave him a curious look, then said, "What, the chems? I keep them locked up over there." She pointed at an old metal toolbox on a shelf. "Why?"

Improvising to try and cover his obvious drug-seeking behavior, Cornelu said, "Um, I... Well certain chems might help bring him out of the coma once he's healed." Thinking of the rampant radiation poisoning in the caravan and trying to change the subject he asked, "How much Radaway do you have?"

"A few, why?"

"Because the bomb in Megaaton irradiated just about everyone and people are going to get sick if they don't get some soon." Then inspiration struck. "I have some stims, I'll fix Timebomb up if you start passing the radaway out, deal?"

Red nodded and went over to the locked toolbox. Opening it, she grabbed several small labeled bags of watery brownish liquid and said in a clipped voice, "Use anything you need in here to get him awake," before leaving.

Cornelu went to the door, almost falling over in his haste and because he was so used to Armor's structural support. When he was sure Red had left he ran back to the toolbox to rummage through it. There were three canisters of the mysterious inhalant mixed in with a dozen or so different chems. Taking the three, he pocketed two in the compartment with his stimpacks and put the end of one in his mouth for a long pull. Within seconds his headache was receding and soon the hunger purred in satisfaction before disappearing. The headache didn't go away completely though, which irritated him.

He tried to ignore the pain and set to work on Timebomb. The young man's head wound was bandaged over but there was bleeding under the skin and a fist sized area was swelling around the bruising. He drained the bubble of blood and then applied a stimpack. That part wasn't really complex, but if the head wound had not been drained before healing it would have caused major problems, and he guessed that was what Red had been apprehensive or incapable of. He then made sure the collarbones were perfectly in place before using two more on the man's chest, getting as close to the bones as possible to maximize the effects on the broken skeleton. He followed that up with one last stim, applied in small portions at each unhealed bullet wound.

As Cornelu was finishing up Timebomb started to stir. The pressure from the blood had almost certainly been the cause of his unconsciousness and now that it was gone he seemed to be recovering. Holding the man down for a second, he took a med-x from Red's supplies and injected it so the man wouldn't wake up screaming. Stimpack induced bone regeneration is far from the tickling sensation caused when healing a cut or sore by the same method.

"Damn," Timebomb said as he put a hand on his head. His eyes hadn't opened yet, probably because he knew subconsciously that light would make his raging headache worse. "What... what happened?"

"You took seven bullet wounds, broke both clavicles and almost cracked your skull. Should be fine now."

He opened his eyes at that, wincing, and looked up, astounded. "Wow, that's... You saved my life! Thanks. You're a good person, you know that?"

The praise made Cornelu feel a little better, but his own headache was getting worse. "No problem. You should be fine, but don't do anything strenuous for a while."

"Alright, yeah. I promise," he said, closing his eyes again and flexing his muscles to see if everything worked.

Locking the medicine box up behind him and donning Armor, Cornelu left the house to see how Red was doing. All the radaway had been dispensed and she and a few others were with the wounded, whom had been moved off a little ways from the core of sleeping humanity. He approached and saw her using stims donated by Stevie to go back over the work on Wolfgang's ribs. However, he was distracted by Zoiks, who was talking quietly with a now-conscious Sam and explaining the things that had happened since the explosion. He noticed Sam had a radaway attached to his arm like many of the other refugees.

The former raider was confused and slightly afraid to be surrounded by so many armed people, and soon he asked, "Wait, I passed out because of a _nuclear bomb_?"

Cornelu walked up and both of them turned to him, pausing their conversation. He disconnected his helmet so the man could see his face, then explained, "You know Megaton, right? Someone blew it up. You are with the survivors now. Those who wanted the town destroyed employed raiders as thugs, do you know anything about that?"

Sam's response was comical, with his open mouth and disbelieving expression, but Cornelu was feeling the effects of the drug wear off and wasn't in the mood for laughter. "Y- you! You killed all my men and threw me out of my building!" The experience of being a slave seemed to have humbled the man, his voice was more scared and disbelieving than accusing and angry.

"Yes, I did. But I also let you live afterward, which is more than what you would have done for anyone. So I think we can call it even and put that behind us. Now answer the question."

Recoiling slightly, he replied, "Man, you have really toughened up." Completely beaten, he said, "Yeah, I did hear something about a shitty paying job back in Evergreen, last time I went to turn in my haul. It wasn't enough to get mercenaries, which is why I'm guessing the man that offered the job went and offered it to raiders. Cheep labor equivalent for dealing death and destruction. I don't know any more about what they wanted done, but I heard from some people that it was Tenpenny, from Tenpenny Tower, that had his hand behind it. That's all I know."

Easing up, he continued, "Alright, thank you. Now, I guess you are confused. Need anything explained?" At the rather sarcastic nod of the ex-raider, as if to say, "Duh," Cornelu gave a brief summary of finding him and Zoiks after the explosion, the Megaton survivors showing up and the journey from the Super Duper Mart. The whole thing reminded him greatly of the storytelling bonanza from earlier.

When Sam was filled in he said, "Wow, I missed a lot." Looking around he added, "Um, are you guys going to kick me out? I mean, can I stay? Because I've seen raiders, slavers and mercenaries and this is the biggest group of people I've ever seen that is both armed and sane. I, uh, well... I kind of don't want to leave. It was getting pretty lonely out in the wastes, anyway."

Cornelu and Zoiks glanced at each other, then she said, "We don' make those caw- agh... calls. You have to tawk to Lllllucas about it."

Leaving them to talk more about Sam's future, Cornelu went to Red to see if he could help any. It was at least two in the morning by now but his hyped up mind, combined with the ever-growing headache, made him completely forget about sleep. He was in do-mode, he was going to keep occupied until he collapsed. When he reached Red she was finishing up on Wolfgang, so he asked, "Is there anything else that needs to be done?"

She looked up and said, "Not medically, but I hear from Stevie that you built that thing." She pointed at Box. "There are a few scrapped robots in the junk yard at the back of town, if you want to take a look at them. We've been trying to get them to work, we thought maybe they could help us fight the super mutants, but no one here has the skill to do it."

This perked his interest and he set off toward the place where Perez had called the storytelling session two or three hours ago. It was now vacant. Nearby was the junkyard, and behind a few piles of debris were two robots. One was an average protectron, but the other was an eight foot tall military-looking robot that sat on a tripod of thick legs with large, spiky spherical metal wheels at the end of each. It had a minigun on one arm and a missile launcher on the other. Both robots showed signs of tampering, as if people had attempted to open them up and fix them to no avail.

Starting with the larger and more promising robot, he inspected it to try and figure out what might be wrong with it. Almost immediately, his headache stopped him dead. It was getting to incessant to function normally. Annoyed, Cornelu decided to take more of the mysterious drug. There was no one in the immediate vicinity so he removed his helmet, Armor turning off with a soft beep. From his metal pocket he grabbed the first canister he had taken a hit from and he took another long pull. There wasn't much left in the container, but he felt the affects take hold and his head ache went away completely. Since the canister was now empty he threw it on the ground. I was a junk yard, who would notice?

Getting back to work, he started rummaging around looking for disconnected wires and fried circuits. With his skill in robotics the work was almost instinctual, so time passed quickly. One minute he was reconnecting the first of the wires, the next he was mending a break in the hydraulic lines of the legs, and then calibrating the minigun to be more accurate. But then he realized something was wrong. Now he was programing a new targeting system for the missile launcher to identify any collateral parties within the damage radius of the blast of the missile. He could follow the train of thoughts to where he was now, but when had he physically acted upon those thoughts? He was doing programing on the computer that should be stored in Box. When had he dragged that out? And how was it running at all? There was no working electrical grid in Bigtown. Stopping, he traced the cord and found it jury rigged to run off of the robot's industrial grade mobile fission power generator. That was a pretty impressive bit of ingenuity, but when had he gotten the generator running? Just a few minutes ago he had been fixing the first of the wires, and in front of him was three or four hours of work.

The sun poked up from behind the horizon and found him standing next to a crudely repaired but functional sentry bot with barely any recollection of fixing it. Realizing he didn't remember large portions of the night that had just passed, Cornelu finally admitted something that would be very obvious to anyone but himself. Something was dangerously affecting his short term memory and perceptions of reality.

He had a drug problem.


	21. 3: Ch 9: Carmelita

Chapter 9: "Carmelita " by Warren Zevon

Simms woke as the sun was rising. The sad ball of fire on the horizon, barely shining through the unusually thick wasteland haze, gave him the feeling the day was going to be difficult. Overwhelmed by the sight and corresponding thought, the aging sheriff decided he was not at all up to facing the day and that the problems that needed to be solved could wait a few minutes longer. He went back to sleep.

* * *

Stevie woke up early to take the mourning watch, relieving Lucy. He spent a few hours waiting for something to happen. Nothing did.

At least, nothing attacked the settlement. A few people got up soon after he did, but the majority took the security the walls and numbers gave them as a sign to sleep in without fear of a surprise attack. For the few that did get up, the preferred activity seemed to be speculating on how Simms was going to handle the situation with the Bigtowners, and weather the group should stay in Bigtown or not. The conversation was not far away from where Stevie sat at the gate, as those who were awake did not want to disturb those who chose to sleep in, so he followed the conversation while his eyes scanned back and forth.

Walter, the grizzled old mechanic that had kept the megaton water treatment operation up and running for several decades, said, "Simms lead Megaton for years, facing problems, finding solutions and getting things done the whole while. I'm pretty sure he can negotiate peace with a group of people he outnumbers and that he just saved from slavery. With those cards to play, I don't see how anyone could mess that up, let alone Simms of all people."

"But... have you noticed he's been a little off recently?" Lilith reminded, keeping her volume down. Stevie could not really tell, but she sounded like what she was saying was unpleasant for her to voice. "He's strained. You saw how he was after he saved Maggie and Harden was shot. And yesterday when that jerk-off Bigtowner said all that stuff about sucking and dyeing, it was obviously not something the kids should have been hearing. As soon as he was done with his little tirade I looked over at Simms to see what he would say. He didn't say anything. He's strong, but I'm not sure that's enough. Walter, if what you say is true then why didn't he just settle everything yesterday instead of putting it off like he did?"

There was enough truth in what the bodyguard said to make everyone nervous, and the chatter died out after that.

Three hours after the sun rose Stevie heard something behind him and Ethyl tapped him on the shoulder. "Um, I'll take watch. I think something is going down, you should get in there."

With a mumbled thanks he rose and hustled down the street a bit to see what was happening. There were still a few figures that remained prone, including Moria, who was still in a coma, Lucy, who was catching up on the sleep she had missed on night shift, and the children. Simms had apparently been getting everyone organized when six Bigtown residents, including Dusty, Kimba and Shorty, came from the building that they all slept in and approached him. It was obviously an attempt to try and squeeze some influence out of the situation from a show of numbers. With looks of unease, Red and Timebomb tailed them while carefully keeping separate from them. At the front of the posse was a young man whose name Stevie did not know. The arrogant faced leader took it upon himself to speak first with, "Simms!"

Instantly the residents had the attention of everyone. Those who had still been sleeping decided whatever was happening was more important than rest.

The sheriff straightened and turned to face the group. He refrained from being openly hostile from the start, but began with a hint of an edge in his voice. "You woke my son."

The man either had brass balls or was cocky to the point of insanity. He smirked and replied, "Yes, I did. How about that? Now, let's discuss your little group of refugees. Bigtown is our town, we say get out. What do you say?"

The solidarity of the group dissolved rapidly. Of the five that backed the conceited man, three looked uncomfortable, like the conflict was heading down a path they did not approve of. Kimba was among them and blanched at the proclamation, "What? That's not-" before being cut off by a look from the leader.

Simms considered for a second, the calmly asked, "What is your name, son?"

"The name is Flash, and _that_," he pointed at Harden, who was now up and at his father's side, "is your son, not me. What do you say?"

"Well, Flash, I'd say you don't have a clue what you are doing." The angry young man started to make a comment but Simms ignored him and moved on, raising his voice so it was easier to hear him. "People of Bigtown! I understand that you are uneasy that the refugees of Megaton are here, sleeping on your doorstep and possibly threatening your homes and lives. I assure you, you do not have to fear us. We are not welcome, and this settlement would not be large enough to contain all of us in any case. We will be moving on tonight." Most everyone agreed with this decision, and anyone who did not saw either the logic or Simms suddenly invincible and authoritative demeanor as good enough reason to not argue. "However, you have to admit that the situation in Bigtown is unsustainable. I do not see our arrival as a factor in you being pushed from your homes, this place was threatened long before we got here. So I offer you the option of joining us in our exile. We have some food and some guns, but any is more than you have now, and we can offer the influence of numbers. We don't have a destination in mind, only a direction to wander in and the hope and chance that we will find somewhere relatively safe." He paused to cast a deep look over the fractured Bigtown group before ending with, "Think about it. We leave at dusk."

As the dark skinned man in his worn and limp sheriff hat turned away to help pack up, Stevie could only smile. Simms might be under a lot of strain. He might even be breaking under the surface, where the only way to tell would be to watch the ripples. But at the moment, he was just _fine._

* * *

Bittercup looked at Flash to see what he would do. As always, he folded when someone called him out. Instead of putting his foot down and telling the oh-so-powerful sheriff to go stuff it he just let it pass. Another missed chance. Everyone had thought that his dickish attitude would help him confront the leader of the dirty refugees the night before when they decided to take a stand, but she should have known better. Their short relationship had shown her that behind his mask of badass and bigheadedness was a man just as pathetic as all the others in the shit town.

Though she didn't acknowledge it consciously, only the emotions it spawned, and she certainly would not have been able to properly voice it even if she was acutely aware of it, her spiteful, childish and defiant nature made her hateful of Simms and the authority he represented, the refugees and the power that they held, and the world that allowed it all to happen. She was being pressured. She hated being pressured.

The reason she liked Bigtown, in spite of the death and hunger and constant threat of horrible things, was because there were no rules. Bittercup's most cherished ideal was that rules oppressed her and therefor were made to be broken. Not just in a fun, "Hey, let's see if we can get away with this," way, but with a passion. The point of the act was tarnished if no one knew the rule had been shattered. You were supposed to make a point, so that people did not try and oppress you again.

Of course that not how she _thought_, only how she _felt_. Her thoughts were much more juvenile and less eloquent.

All the Bigtowners went back into the common house where they had slept the night before to talk things over. Bittercup stayed out of the stupid arguing, mostly ignoring everything. Now that Flash had shamed himself and lost all chance of having authority her interest in the proceedings had vanished. Something would happen. The group would decide on something, not that it would at all affect the fact that they were all going to be killed or eaten or enslaved like countless before them had been. She would do whatever she wanted in spite of whatever the decision was. If anyone tried to force her she would throw a fit, like always. It was the boring cycle of her life. The only event worth noting would be when one of the supermutants finally bit her head off, or something similarly stupid and pointless that resulted in her death.

* * *

Red took Flash's fall from grace as an opportunity. As soon as everyone was in the common house she started. "Simms is right, we can't stay here. We'll die. This is our chance. They have numbers, they have guns, they have _food._" When the others failed to rally like she hoped she pushed a bit harder. "Dusty, we don't have enough people for a proper guard. They do. If you joined you wouldn't have to do guard duty any more than your fair share, and it would not be looking out over the same stretch of ground all the time. And Kimba, you heard their stories. They're people, just like us."

"No, they're not," Shorty cut in, "They are mungos. That means they can't be trusted!"

The town doctor stared in disbelief. She had not heard the word'mungo' used since she left Little Lamplight. Who still thought like that? "What? Mungos? Holy shit, Shorty, you need to grow up! Are you serious?" Then a realization struck her, and she understood slightly better. "Wait a minute, you didn't even say it right. Mungo means adult. _You, _"she jabbed a finger at his chest, "are a mungo now, and so is everyone else here. Me are mungos now, and guess what that means? You need to grow up! Get in touch with reality because not every person in the world is from Lamplight. You can't just stick with the people that you have known all your life." Red stopped and looked around to see what the others thought of this, and by the cringes she guessed that this had been the underlying problem from the start. They had been so isolated all their lives that severe and chronic xenophobia had set in. The only outside person that had never tried to hurt them was Stevie-

Stevie. Yeah, that might work.

"Not everyone in the wasteland is evil. Stevie has helped us in the past. Remember before the Cough," she said, referring to the deadly illness a few weeks prior that had decimated the town, "when we needed a little extra help with the defense, and he went out and got us a robot to help? Sure, it was trashed a few weeks later, but he did help."

Timebomb spoke up then. "Yeah, and Cornelu healed me! I'd be dead without him. These people aren't enemies."

"And, they are out only chance at survival. We will die if we stay here," Red finished. As she did she looked around at the less opinionated Bigtowners, ignoring Flash and Shorty. It had taken a while, but she had convinced them. She knew it. "Alright, let's decide. I'm leaving with the Megaton group at dusk, who is coming with us?"

Timebomb moved closer to her and said, "I am."

Kimba, who was very close to Red and like a sister to her not just in looks, walked over and planted herself firmly by her side without saying anything. Dusty followed, then Pappy.

Knowing she could not be bothered to move, Red asked, "Bittercup?"

"Whatever," she replied in a way that anyone who knew her would interpret as 'yes.'

"Okay," Flash sneered, "fine. Just leave me alone." The look on Shorty's face conveyed the same sentiments.

With the relative safety of the group assured, at least for the moment, Red left to get ready for the long march that was to come.

* * *

After fixing the hulking sentry bot and subsequently realizing he could not remember fixing it, Cornelu went and sat down next to the machine. Without noticing it, his hand slid over and found the pocket with the drug canisters in it. Once he noticed it he became angry with himself but it did not last long. Emotionally and physically spent, and with the rush of energy for the high long gone, he passed out, still in Armor's protective casing.

Red woke him several hours later. His head hurt and he felt feverish and sick to his stomach, but he remembered to try and conceal his habit. Hoping the speaker playback of his voice would cover any uneasiness, he said, "Red, what is it?"

"We're leaving. It's getting dark. Simms decided to continue on, and I convinced the others to join your crazy traveling circus." She glanced at the repaired bot and added, "It's good you got that thing working, we're going to need it."

"Yeah, probably. Alright, I'll be up and ready in a minute. Thanks."

She started to move away, then spotted the empty container that Cornelu had tossed aside the previous night after using all of its mind-altering substance. "I knew it," she whispered, then looked around to confirm they were along before saying, "Cornelu, you have to stop."

"Stop what?"

"Stop using jet."

"What is jet?"

"This," she bent over and picked up the red plastic inhaler from the ground, "is jet. Take that helmet off."

"That's not mine."

She gave him a withering glare and he removed the high-tech armor headpiece. The air felt cool against his face, which was unnatural because it was usually hot and dry in the wastes, not cold. A hand was pressed up against his forehead and Red said, "Oh, god Cornelu, you are burning up. Alright, I know you took more from my supplies. Hand them over. Now."

Suddenly Cornelu found it rather hard to speak. Things were slipping out of his control. He tried to deflect her demand, but his throat caught and scattered his words. All he managed to get out was, "...used them all."

Gently the amateur doctor said, "If you had used them all at once, you would be dead. Now give them to me or I will search you and take them." Giving up, he retrieved the other doses of jet and surrendered them. His arms were heavy with weakness and the extra weight of his armor so he was unable, though not unwilling, to resist. "Now get up, we're going to see Simms."

He donned the enclave helmet again, then stood and followed. The world tilted and rolled around him, but he managed to stay upright and walking.

Cornelu felt as if the world was closing in on him, like something big and heavy was charging at him from all directions. Yet it was all dulled by a loss of touch with reality. He had been caught, and he did not remember what that meant. The Overseer would just give him a minor punishment and he could go on with his life.

Oh, wait. He had left the Vault over a month ago.

The next thing he knew they were in front of Simms. Red had the courtesy to pull the grizzled sheriff aside so that no one overheard before saying, "Cornelu here has a jet problem. I found him lying next to a robot that he built during his trip."

This confused Cornelu. She had actually told him about the robots in the first place. "How would you know I made them while... um... using jet?"

Simms answered for her. "Because jet can sometimes give bursts of energy and a drive to do something with that energy. The jet trip is infamous for providing the means for some of the most amazing, deranged and fucked up things in the wasteland. Raider graffiti is a prime example.

"Now son, I understand that you joined us willingly and that you helped us when we needed it, but you will not use again while I am leader or you will be expelled from the group. I can't have you stealing, setting such an example for the kids and undermining everyone's moral, all of which you will end up doing if you keep using. This is not something we can deal with right now." He turned to Red, "You did take his chems, right?" She showed the two maroon canisters, "Good, keep them locked up. Red, see if you can give him anything to help kick the habit, but don't waste your time by trying to help him through this. If wants to be free of that cloud he's in he won't need help and if he doesn't than there is nothing you can do." Then the bearded sheriff walked away.

Cornelu listened and a sense of shame overcame him. Simms's calm, disciplinary tone was worse than anything he had ever experienced. His father had always been willingly ignorant of his activities, good or bad, and scoldings from him had been so out of touch with whatever the problem had been that they always seemed half-hearted. The Overseer's punishments had been laughable because the power he held was obviously fake. He controlled the Vault security, and because of that he was leader. That was it.

But Simms, he had real authority in his voice. This was a man who had earned his place and knew what to do with the power he held. It was frightening that such might was directed at him, and Cornelu could not help but recoil a bit from it.

* * *

To say Bittercup was unhappy with Red's decision and the seeds of a leadership and structure taking root would be misleading. 'Unhappy' sounds like the situation is a bit out of someone's comfort zone, or is slightly unpleasant. To be more accurate, Bittercup's feelings on the events of the day were closer to someone who has had their life's work destroyed while they were forced to watch every agonizing moment.

She was not lacking a vent for her rage, however. With a semblance of organization, rules would be set down. And rules are meant to be broken.


	22. 4: Ch 1: Given And Denied

AN/ No comment from me about the months it has taken me to get this up. I have a feeling it will be a different story from you guys.

* * *

Part 4: Foundation

Chapter 1: "Given And Denied" by Poets of the Fall

Mr. Burke entered Fort Bannister with a confidence that made the heartless mercenaries nearby sneer. But he had a job for them, and he knew Jabsco would keep his dogs at bay.

A similar scene came to his mind then. Some time before he had traveled with a caravan for a while until it made its stop outside Evergreen Mills. It had been amusing to him to hear how the man talked of losing a merchant friend of his in the Megaton explosion. Having inside information makes everything an inside joke. But when Smiling Jack and a woman known only as Madame came out to trade he had greeted them as old friends and when the meeting was over he disappeared into the raider base with the same assured and contemptuous look he had on at Fort Bannister, much to Lucky Harith's surprise. The largest raider encampment in the Capital Wasteland was not a place sane people entered willingly, let alone confidently. That scene, himself walking into a similarly horrid place to be sneered at by the hounds who would keel once their master were paid, was what he thought of.

Mr. Burke knew his sanity was a point of contention among many, and the merchant could be added to the list. He did not mind. A man who could get things done was a man of value, and if being psychotic was what it took to get things done he thought it a worthy trade.

The first band of thugs had met an unanticipated amount of resistance. Somehow a few of the townspeople escaped the direct explosion of the nuclear bomb. The idiots sent to dispatch the 'Holy Light Monastery' had dawdled, letting the local raider gangs weaken the survivors but also giving the unlikely survivors a chance to ready and defend themselves.

It saddened Burke. His intricate and elegant plan with the bomb had not been completely successful. It was time to take the gloves off. He had gone to Evergreen Mills again to hire a second, larger group to clean up after the mess of the first but he realized that raiders were not going to be an adequate solution. When he spoke with other petty leaders he saw that they were all far too unprofessional and chaotic to get a job like his done.

He hired a small army anyway. He needed to keep track of the Megaton survivors, slow them down, weaken them and keep whatever leadership was left off-balance. On the off chance that they succeeded it would save him a lot of money that would otherwise go to the ruthless and capable mercenaries of Talon Company.

* * *

Perez was glad that it was going better than the first encounter. They had just made contact with the villagers and a man named Even was explaining their situation with a tone of relief and gratitude. It would have been overly stressful for everyone if Arefu had resisted as much as the disillusioned, childish residents of Bigtown.

The timing of the group's departure, right after sunset, was to try and throw off any pursuit. It resulted in a march through a good portion of the night, however, and nighttime in the Wasteland is at least scary if not actually dangerous. People kept seeing things and at one point it seemed like Gob had just vanished into the night. Apparently he had to take a leak and had been left behind for a while, but it scared everyone anyway.

After leaving Bigtown the group of refugees, which did not include Shorty or Flash, had continued in the same general direction as before, following the Potomac northwest. Lucy and Stevie mentioned that they were already headed almost right towards the village were Lucy was from and they asked if the group could stop by there. She wanted to check in with her family, people would be willing to trade with them and it would be a place to sleep in the comfort of a well defended settlement. Simms had reluctantly relented.

Once they were moving Perez had asked Simms if the few extra pistols and ammo could be distributed to the Bigtown refugees, all of whom except Dusty and Kimba were unarmed. He allowed it. That and the sentrybot, supplied with the 5mm ammo from the Megaton armory that until then had been useless, made everyone feel safer. Walter also rigged the sentrybot to pull the handcart, so that freed up two more potential guns and people did not have to worry about their next shift pulling. In terms of the number of able-bodied people and guns they commanded they were something of a force to be reckoned with.

The ex-raider Sam, an excellent shot and armed with his sniper rifle, spotted and killed a raider that had been tailing them. Perez had been there when he, in an attempt to show that he had changed and wanted to be part of the group, had presented the scout's hunting rifle and working pair of binoculars to Simms. The gesture was ineffectual to the Sheriff, but it changed a few of the refugees' opinions about the man's past.

The incident brought up a conversation about the unusual tactics being used against them. Raiders did not scout their enemies, and only very rarely did they amass in the numbers seen at the attack on the Super-Duper Mart. With the hint given by the dying raider that Cornelu had questioned after said battle everyone concluded that they could be attributed to the insane and seemingly unprovoked plot by the man named Burke against the people of Megaton.

Crazy Wolfgang, who's wounds had taken a major toll on him even with the stimpack and treatment for his fractured ribs, fell behind several times and wound up taking Sam's vacant stretcher being dragged behind one of the protectrons. Perez had seen Lilith pacing next to the contraption with her gun out and eyes darting for any sign of danger the whole night.

When they stopped a few hours before dawn to sleep a few more raider probes to their defenses had people jumping for their weapons every hour or so. Perez's shotgun routinely jammed, but after Stevie fixed it for the second time he figured out that removing the round-drum style clip, fiddling with the safety, smacking the drum on something and sliding it home managed to fix it. He wasn't sure how it worked, but it was the fastest way to get back in the firefights. No one had been able to rest and they set off again as the sun rose. Simm's logic was that if they could not sleep they might as well cover some ground. The day that the group spent trekking to Arefu had been irritable because of it. Perez had had his hands full trying to pacify the minor squabbles that broke out between the stressed refugees.

The settlement looked like a collection of houses, with the whole thing on stilts. It was built on a broken bridge that jutted out over the Potomac so from afar it was like a village floating sixty or so feet above the ground. The northern connection to land had collapsed, so the only way to approach it was along the roadbed from the south. The four lane highway was wide enough to fit a few iconic Wasteland houses, huts made of sheets of tin and thin boards over a framework of wooden beams and metal rods. The first house seemed to have a parody of a sniper's nest on a pole a few feet above it because the pitiful thing was empty and looked like such a failure that it probably would not support a person's weight. The ramp was narrow enough that anyone trying to get in could be easily spotted, and they had been hailed as soon as they were in sight by a man named Evan who was guarding the approach.

Lucy ran up to him and it seemed like a moment of joyful reunion. The refugees had a place to sleep in safety at least for the night and the mode was happy all around.

Evan explained the situation. "Lucy! It's so good to see you! Oh, I thought we'd never make it. A gang of punks called The Family, not raiders but more like juvenile delinquents, have been harassing us and everyone is locked up tight. A steady increase in the number of raider and slaver attacks and the nuisance that The Family causes was enough to drive several people have moved away from Arefu, but not us. We're just stubborn like that."

Lucy looked stricken but he quickly soothed her, "No! No, the Wests are still here." With that she moved past him into the village. "Get everyone else out of their houses too! Their still shut inside!" he called after her.

"I'm Lucas Simms, Sheriff of Megaton and leader of her refugees. We don't mean to intrude, but we really need a place to sleep without fear of being attacked. Last night some damn raiders would not let us get a moments peace."

"Ha! Sure, you can have any open spot of pavement, but I doubt there will be any more peace here that where you're coming from. I'm Evan King, by the way. Certainly glad to meet you. A few nights ago The Family attacked, killed all our brahmin and before anyone could make a stand had made their way among the buildings. There had been a lot of banging on the sides of buildings and noise, then after an hour they left. Like I said, everyone is still locked inside for defense."

Those who he spoke of started emerging cautiously from the buildings as Lucy informed them of the arrival of the Megaton group. There were only three others besides Evan; a couple, Ken and Brailee Ewer, and Karen Schenzy. Perez thought Brailee was a bit off, not quite all there. People started mixing, telling their stories and enjoying the sense of safety that the presence of many allied guns and a stable defense brought to everyone.

Then it shattered. Lucy had run to her family's house to let them know it was safe. Then they heard her scream and she bolted from the house, her piercing shriek cutting out as she vomited on the pavement outside.

Immediately several people were aiming at the house and advancing, Perez among them. Stevie was first to the door passing a sobbing Lucy on the threshold. He darted in, painted chinese assault rifle leveled, and after a few seconds he returned with a solemn face.

"Simms," he said, "Evan. Come. No one enters."

But it was obvious what had happened. Lucy's family was dead.

Perez went to comfort her as the feeling of content relief that the groups had felt imploded.

* * *

Zoiks easily overheard the whispered conversation between Stevie and the two leaders.

"Her parents are dead. Their bodies have been mutilated and exposed, but it doesn't look like raider work. It looks like there are bite marks, mostly around the shoulders and neck. If this was raider work they would have actually eaten them, and whoever did this just bit them."

"My god," Evan said. "What about her brother? Did you see him?"

"No."

"Then he might still be alive! They must have taken him."

"I'm not so sure. This... 'Family,' they certainly seem to be cannibalistic in some measure. How long ago did the attack happen? The bodies were cold."

"Uh, a day or two ago. It was at night. I think. I don't remember, I haven't slept since! I was the one who had to guard the goddamn ramp all by myse-"

He was getting loud and Zoiks could see that it was unnerving the others. Simms put a stop to it, "_Quiet__!_ No one is blaming you, now calm down before you cause a panic. The harsh truth is that Lucy's brother has probably been eaten by a group of crazy fucking cannibals. We _finally_ have a place to rest and get a good night's sleep, I'm not going to risk dividing my forces and risk people's lives to give Lucy a sense of closure. If she or any of your people want to go after the 'Family' on your own, feel free. I have two dozen refugees to keep alive and darkness will be falling in a few hours, so if you will excuse me."

Zoiks did not know what to think. The sheriff was very close to breaking point and it scared her. But she knew for certain that she and everyone else were as safe under his lead as a person could possibly be by mortal means. And judging by the demonic flare in Lucas Simms's eyes, maybe even a little more than that.

* * *

Sam jumped and fell off the cinder block he had been sitting on when Simms abruptly spoke to him. He had been refurbishing his sniper rifle with parts from the partially melted one scavenged after the battle at the Super-Duper Mart.

"Sam! Sleep. We have first watch tonight."

He fumbled the weapon for a second and once recovered replied, "Uh, okay Simms! I mean, yes, Sir."

An amused smile almost broke through the sheriff's serious face. His forced formality and eagerness to prove himself must have been a little overdone, but for Sam getting the hardened veteran to smirk would have been a victory in itself. But then it was gone. "Cut the 'sir,' you're not in the army."

He spent a few seconds putting his weapon back together, then rolled out the thin cloth that passed for his bed and tried to fall asleep near the sandbags that covered the ramp. Exhausted as he was from the previous night's ordeal it was not difficult.

He woke at sunset to Simm's shaking his shoulder. For the first four hours of darkness Sam, Simms, Harden and the ever-present sentrybot that Cornelu had fixed watched the ramp. It was perfectly clear why the sheriff had chosen Sam as the person to share the first shift with. Simms told him to use the down time to finish upgrading his scoped sniper rifle with the parts he could get off of the melted one, then once it was intact again they traded weapons and Sam was sent farther out with the pair of binoculars as an advance sentry. As he walked away from the father and son he noticed Simm's was teaching his son the finer points of marksmanship.

The watch was uneventful. After it was over and Perez came to replace him he went back to the sandbag wall for his gun. It was in Stockholm's hands. Simms took back his own painted assault rifle, then curtly told him that the sniper rifle needed to be shared, and that from then on one of the sentries that was on duty would have it to maximize its usefulness. Then Simms suggested he catch some shuteye and went off to follow his own advice.

It was effective, and Sam saw the logic, but he minded the commandeering of his gun. Stockholm frowned at him as if to say, "What can you do?" and handed him a 10mm.

* * *

AN/ Again, I figured help with the many characters could not hurt.

Strays or otherwise unaffiliated with the below settlements (Game): Sam Warrick (M/38) and Crazy Wolfgang (M/28). -(Original): Cornelu (M/19), Zoiks (F/22), Stevie (M/56) and Lilith (F/37).

Megaton Refugees (Game Characters): Lucas Simms (Male/41), Harden Simms (M/10), Maggie (Female/9), Lucy West (F/25), Moria Brown (F/24), Walter (M/61), Stockholm (M/25) and Gob (M/236). -(Original Characters): Perez (M/17) and Ethyl (F/31).

Bigtowners (Game): Dusty (M/25), Red (F/24), Kimba (F/21), Timebomb (M/20) and Bittercup (F/19).

People of Arefu (Game): Evan King (M/55), Karen Schenzy (F/23), Ken Ewer (M/40) and Brailee Ewer (F/36).


	23. 4: Ch 2: Waste

AN/ In an attempt to add some consistency to my updates, I'm going to try to add new chapter every Friday. My last update was on a Tuesday, I think, but whatever. I'll try to stick to every Friday.

In the game, for 100 caps a doctor can snap their fingers and make the LW not addicted. Even with better medicines and all that, it still takes time for the body's dependency on a substance to subside. There is no lore that states how doctors are able to accomplish this magic that I know of, so I'm throwing it out. -crumples it and tosses towards the trashcan-

* * *

Chapter 2: "Waste" by Seether

The next morning found Cornelu feeling like his blood was being purged with flaming acid. He could no longer try to sleep with Armor's helmet on because of the nausea withdrawals caused. He could no longer sleep at all, to be accurate, but he called lying down at night while trying not to scream in agony 'sleeping' because that is what he used to do at night. And it was what everyone else was doing, which made him feel a little better to be included in a group activity. It meant he had not yet been abandoned.

It goes to show how far his mind had bent to consider everyone sleeping at he same time a 'group activity,' but Cornelu persisted on.

* * *

Zoiks worried about the young man in the impenetrable black armor. His quite moans and occasional vomiting were isolated to a far back corner of the overpass that Arefu was built on because she had moved Cornelu, who was completely delirious, out of view of everyone to try and keep his condition less obvious. Red stopped by and checked on him periodically, sometimes giving him med-x or a small amount of jet.

At one point he had realized what she was doing and tried to make a grab for the canister. His armor was deactivated because the helmet was off so the he could safely puke his brains out, so its weight hindered his sudden lunge instead of giving it mechanical strength. After that he was not allowed to have the final piece of armor and Simms had put it away for safekeeping.

But Zoiks was worried about what would happen when Cornelu got better. His secret was revealed. Would he tell her's? She had not said anything, but did he know that? And even if he did, would he spill just out of spite?

She had talked to Sam, the only other person who knew she was a cyborg. He was going to be silent on the subject. His stint as her slave, followed by his near death experience, then suddenly waking up both alive and free had really shuffled his priorities. He was much more docile now, not argumentative or rebellious like he had been.

Cornelu, now he was another matter entirely. When healthy he could be forceful when he wanted, and certainly capable of both helping and harming others. He had taken in all of the refugees and Zoiks, even Sam whom he had fought against before. But when she risked exposing his addiction he had manipulated her, used guilt against her and finally blackmailed her with her own secret. Even worse, in the state he was in he was completely unpredictable and she feared that he might intentionally or accidentally betray her.

It was this fear that had led her down a dangerous train of thought. Cornelu was sick. Really sick. It would not be unbelievable that he just... passed away. It would not take much from where he was, just an overdose or maybe some poison is she could get some. His body would just succumb to the onslaught it was enduring and no one would know.

But Zoiks could not do it. How could she kill someone in cold blood? And he had saved her and Sam the night of the Megaton explosion. He had sheltered them and defended them at the Super-Duper Mart. He had even built the sentrybot that now pulled the handcart, much to everyone's relief. Although they were not moving at the time the refugees had grown to hate pulling the contraption over the uneven ground of the Wasteland.

No, no matter how convenient it might be for him to expire, she was not going to kill him.

* * *

Stockholm took advantage of his situation. Just after sunup, when the last night watch shift ended, he found the sentry that had used the Sam's scoped rifle and asked if he could use it for a second. Sam was not yet awake and Stockholm had an idea. With the weapon in hand he walked past the houses. The other refugees were sleeping in the area just beyond. There had been a few scrap pieces of tin and other metal that people had propped up with poles or sticks to form wall-less huts as protection from the light radioactive rain the night before. He past them as well, until he found the point where the decrepit bridge was at its highest point.

He noticed Zoiks and Cornelu even farther back, over the crest of the ancient structure mostly out of view of the others. _I guess that armor of his has a fly, _he thought, grinning, before turning back to what he was doing.

Out over the cement guardrail to the east he could see the mostly dry riverbed of the Potomac. It curved south, to his right, just as it reached the ruins of D.C. and he though that he could see the gentle slope of the land down towards the salty waters of the ocean. Putting the scope to his eye he saw several raider camps along the south bank of the river, in buildings and on a broken bridge similar to Arefu's. Now he knew why they had crossed the river at the Super-Duper Mart, even knowing they would not find another functional bridge to cross back. Getting through there would have been hellish.

Farther to the north were a few raiders, but there were more super mutants. Easily the most dangerous was almost parallel with the road that the bridge would make if it was intact, Paradise Falls. Bastion of the slavers. With the number of people in their group the refugees might be able to fend of an attack from the average slaver raiding party. But that was a big 'maybe,' with unthinkable results if they failed. The thought sent chills down Stockholm's spine. He could see how the shock of something like that could quickly reverse Sam's ideas on the subject.

He continued his counterclockwise rotation. A good distance to the northwest the river turned sharply to the right, or north, and the terrain became more rocky and slightly mountainous. Just as the river turned out of view it cut something of a gorge into the earth and an intact overpass connected the two parts of the severed hill.

From the northern riverbank the ground rose in jumps, sharply in some places but leveling out slightly for pre-war roadbeds or the husks of buildings. A cluster of structures on one such plateau overlooking the river had hulking green figures moving around in it. He saw a few other inhabited and defensible places. One of the high points was topped with a collection of three metal radio towers. It looked like the rock face that made up the ground they stood upon wrapped around to he sides. That would make one hell of a position, but even on the bridge he was lower than the bases of the three towers so he could not see if there were people or creatures already there.

Most importantly, he could not see any sign the refugees were being tracked by raiders. That was good.

Figuring he had pushed his luck long enough, he stopped his scan of the area and went to place Sam's gun next to its sleeping owner.

* * *

Harden Simms woke up tired from the night watch he and his father had pulled the night before. Karen, the woman in Arefu who was not completely lost in fantasies and delusions, had let him, Maggie and Lucy sleep in her house and he was a bit less sore than if he had slept on the ground again, waking up at dawn more than made up for that slight comfort.

He tailed his father from dawn on, learning how to manage people and be a capable leader. The sheriff had decided to give the ten year old a crash course in the family business to familiarize him with the skills he would need if he ever wanted to be sheriff of a town himself one day

Harden watched as Stockholm informed Simms of a few places to avoid if they were to continue along the river. When Stockholm showed them a particularly good spot that was quite a distance from Arefu he even got a turn with the binoculars. The caravan of refugees and robots typically paced at a slow walk, and with breaks and at least eight hours of sleep each night a trip to the natural fortress would take three or four days. From a distance it looked impressive, and Simms grunted his approval when Harden noted that since Arefu was one of the westernmost settlements this new place was probably not claimed by rational people. That did not mean it would be a cake walk, it would be an extremely difficult to location to take, but there was probably no claim to it that they would need to respect.

After that Harden saw how the grizzled sheriff that he called 'Dad' easily kept control of situations. The man decided swiftly that today everyone would have a rest and recuperate and that they would have at least one more night to sleep in safety. Evan King's brief protest was silenced with the forceful statement, "My people need at least a day of peace and rest, that is what they will get. Understood?" It was understood, clearly and explicitly.

After that the talks really took off. Dad was trying to figure out what would happen tomorrow, when the break was over. In his typical fashion, when there was no clear path and people had time to debate about the matter, he opened the discussion up to all. Everyone had an opinion. It was generally agreed, even by Evan King, that with so many original villagers either gone or dead Arefu was too undermanned to survive on its own anymore. Harden could tell Dad was acutely frustrated at what that implied. The four Arefu residents were joining them.

The other Megaton refugees jumped on this. Some of the refugees said that they were bringing guns and the stockpile of food that was in box. A great emphasis was put on the sentrybot. The eight foot tall, sleepless, military-grade, heavily armed robot was a serious bargaining chip. They asked what the newcomers had to offer them. The already thin patience and sense of charity among them had been completely spent on letting the Bigtown residents into the group with almost no benefit. If they were going to take on more people those people would have to bring something to the table.

Some of the Bigtowners protested to this, but those of Arefu had a prompt answer. It was obvious. Arefu. The town itself. It was defensible, it had some housing and the potential for more, and it belonged to the citizens that were there first. That is what they brought to the table, the little village in the sky itself.

Although not really to the liking of Dad or Evan King, Harden saw that people thought it was a good idea and because of that it was not opposed. But a host of complications sprung up. How would everyone stay fed? The people of Arefu had some food stockpiled, and the handcart was still more than three-quarters full, but they were finite. The village brahmin that had once fed a dozen or so people had been killed by the Family in the last attack. Where would everyone sleep? Makeshift huts and exposed asphalt would not be tolerated by the refugees for long. Who would be the leader? At this Evan and Dad looked at each other, and with a conceding look the old Arefu villager left the conversation to go back to his house. That was settled.

The housing problem had a few immediate actions that could be taken. The West's bodies had been buried the night before and Lucy did not want the building, having secured a place with her old friend Karen. It had been cleaned up a little and the beds were still usable. Ethyl and Lilith both claimed it. Harden observed how Dad handled the dispute, asking each why they thought they needed it. Lilith said that because Crazy was still hurt he needed a real bed and she was granted it. Moria was placed on the second bed in the house, and Lilith said that any floor space available was up for grabs.

Evan returned briefly and said that he could take fix or six people in his house. He had the largest building. It was two stories and had one extra bed, but the others would have to suffer with the floor. He left with a small group to sort it out.

There was another building just off the ramp next to where the brahmin had been stabled. Dad thought it was to risky to have people living outside of the village and promptly forbid using it. Harden was once again in awe of the natural authority he commanded when issuing orders like that.

With things settling and almost everyone assured a roof over their head that night, the group broke up to relax and enjoy the lack of stress. Dad lead the way over to the ramp again to review the things Harden had learned the night before. It was late morning and Sam was still making up for the sleep lost to the night watch nearby. Before his father could speak Harden smiled, then turned and said, "You know what, Dad? You handled that pretty well."

* * *

Sam was roused by the sound of someone saying something. It sounded like a kid. He opened his eyes and looked around. Simms and Harden were nearby and across the sheriff's weathered face was a wide smile. Sure that he must be dreaming, he closed his eyes again. He was shocked that after a few moments he did not feel any sign of losing consciousness and opened his eyes. The father and son were looking over the sandbags going over ways to effectively stand guard and use binoculars, and although the smile was gone Simms certainly looked more alive. It was not a dream after all.

He found his rifle by his side. That certainly lessened the animosity he had felt at the sheriff. He rose and rolled up the thin mat he had slept on before heading farther into the collection of houses. People were moving in to the West's old place and Red, Kimba, Timebomb, Dusty, and Walter were going into another building led by Evan. It seemed like the different populaces had melded quite well, and Sam certainly was not going to complain that they had a solid position to defend from. With that and the three never-sleeping robots, those being the military sentrybot and the two bulky humanoid protectrons, he had a relaxing sense of complete security.

He grabbed a package of cram from the handcart, which was now disengaged from the sentrybot and rolled alongside one of the buildings. Lucy and the young girl from Bigtown were sitting and eating next to it and he caught some of their conversation.

"-be left behind. What if he's still alive? Say in the future we find him. I know it's not likely but, 'what if?' Could you forgive yourself if you knew you had the chance to save him so much sooner and you didn't try?"

That was the girl, and Lucy started sobbing. Sam put it together that they were talking about Lucy's missing brother, but it seemed awfully harsh of the girl to say such things. He decided to step up.

"Lucy, is she bothering you?" he asked, making it clear with his tone that he was not pleased with this situation he had walked into and intended to fix it.

The girl put on an angry face and started to stand, but Lucy said, "No. No, she's right." A moment passed where she seemed to make up her mind, then she said, "We need to go save my brother."

* * *

Bittercup was delighted. She had been eavesdropping on Simms the night before when he said, 'I'm not going to risk dividing my forces and risk people's lives to give Lucy a sense of closure.' That sounded like a rule. Rules should be broken. Now she had stirred things up and hopefully it would make things a bit difficult for the sheriff. That is what he deserved for destroying the perfect vacuum of order and structure that Bigtown had been.

Then, earlier, he had forbidden anyone from living in the building just outside the village, where the Arefu overpass met the ground. That was her next objective. Bittercup would show him not to boss her around.


	24. 4: Ch 3: Let The Bodies Hit The Floor

AN/ This story just had its six thousandth hit. Still don't know exactly what that means since 'Visitor' translates more to 'pageview' in my head, not 'hit.' I would put the 'visitor' number at a little less than half of the 'hits.' This story also boasts the best hit/visitor ratio of all my stories, which is why it's the longest running. You guys want it, I write it (inconsistently, though as I said last time I'm trying to change that. Fridays).

So thanks for reading. To reward you, here's a massive, succulent chapter, with surprises and plot progression and coming-of-age and battles and stuff. :)

* * *

Chapter 3: "Let The Bodies Hit The Floor" by Sinner

Lucy managed to convince a few people to attempt a rescue of her brother. She was as persuasive as she had ever been in her life, knowing Alan's life might depend on how many people she could sway. Red was her first target. The dark skinned Bigtown woman had some medical skills and that might be crucial if Alan was hurt. It did not take much, Red quickly agreed.

But they would need numbers and guns for protection. Lucy had a hunting rifle and was adequate with it, and Red sported one of the extra handguns that some of the others had managed to repair after the raider attack at the Super-Duper Mart. That was not even close to enough. So after Red was recruited, Lucy went to Stevie.

The man had survived into his fifties in the Wasteland; by itself that spoke volumes about about his skills and endurance. She had known Stevie a long time, first as an occasional trader that stopped by Arefu when she was young. When she decided to move out she discovered that he was more of a mix of scavenger and mercenary than a trader, roaming around selling the scrap he picked up between jobs. She made it to Megaton with him as a paid escort and had seen firsthand how accomplished he was at the trade of warfare.

"Stevie, we're going to go get Alan. Will you help us?" He looked up from cleaning his assault rifle, painted gray instead of the white that was the default color of most weapons from the Chinese invasion of the Great War.

"Lucy, I'm not sure that's a good idea. He... well, might not be-"

"I know. We're going anyway."

"That's suicidal. You are going to get yourselves killed."

"Unless you help us. Then we would be protected and we could save Alan. I'm not going to argue. Decide yourself, if you want to help save him than meet us at the ramp. We will be leaving soon."

Ten minutes later she had eight people willing to go on the expedition. Ken and Brailee Ewer and Karen Schenzy, all from Arefu who knew Lucy and Alan from birth, Sam, Red, Kimba, Gob, the ghoul from Megaton, and herself. Lucy looked for Bittercup, who had started the whole thing, but could not find her anywhere.

Only Lucy herself, Kimba and Sam had real weapons, two hunting rifles and a scoped sniper rifle, respectively. The others had 10mm or, even worse, .22 handguns. The presence of a fully automatic assault rifle could turn the tide of any possible encounter and they anxiously waited for their last member. After a few moments of nervous anticipation, Stevie showed up as well.

It seemed like a sure thing to the would-be rescuers. The Family was known to have much more bark than bite, their latest attack notwithstanding. For more than a year they had been a nuisance and nothing more.

The group set off and got three feet past the sandbags at the top of the ramp before they were halted.

"Where the hell do you think you're going?" Simms asked as the group passed his position.

"To save my brother," Lucy answered coldly. He was trying to interfere in her personal business. She felt that his authority did not extend that far.

* * *

Simms thought otherwise. Aside from the fact that he had been sheriff of Megaton, and aside from the fact that he was leader of her refugees, in the Wasteland authority and power were decided with bullets and the machines that fired them. In his twenty years protecting Megaton he had always attempted to calmly work things out, instilling justice when necessary. People did not think that way anymore. It was a pre-war luxury. The sense of peace and mutual civility that was depicted in the antique music, paintings, history and, very rarely, films of the that era no longer existed. The only way to keep the lawless people of the Wasteland in line was force.

Simms could exert that force. He had the authority to set rules for the betterment of everyone because he had the power to enforce them. He did not use his position lightly because down that road was tyranny and oppression, but when force was called for he could deliver. That is what made him leader.

"We need to stay together. I just saw another raider scout a few minutes ago. The group can't afford to lose the protection we all give it. You can't leave."

"I? I can't leave? I may have lived in Megaton, but we're in Arefu now. This is my town. I can do whatever I want."

The sheriff looked her straight in the eye, putting all of the authority that she knew he had into it, then said, "If you four," he gestured to Lucy, Ken, Brailee and Karen, "want to risk your lives for your close friend or family, no matter how slim the chances are, I would not object even if I had the right. That's not something I'd ever take from someone. Just like everywhere else, Arefu people need to look out for each other.

"But that's what I'm doing for everyone else. I'm trying to keep all of us alive and safe. That means we need security. Stevie, Sam, Gob; you are staying here. End of discussion.

"Red and Kimba, you joined this group with nothing to lose. I won't presume to order you around, but think of the others. What happens if we lose the only capable doctor we have, Red? Or if someone is hurt while you are gone?"

"Cornelu could-"

He answered that with a look. They both knew that Cornelu could take a turn for death or worse in the state he was in. He would not be fixing anyone.

A motionless moment passed, then Sam pointedly walked back to his spot on the pavement just behind the low sandbag wall. He did not say anything. He just sat down and removed himself from the situation. Gob followed suit, walking back into Arefu. Then, to almost everyone's surprise and Lucy's shock, so did Karen, her childhood friend.

Lucy was undeterred and defiantly set off down the ramp. Ken and Brailee Ewer followed, he with an angry look at Simms and she with a bright, oblivious smile, like she was off in her own little world. It seemed to Simms something was seriously wrong with her. Her husband had to actively lead her way, and as they followed Lucy it sounded like she said something about a 'fall catalog.'

Kimba and Red exchanged glances, then also followed. Red gave an apologetic look as she passed. Simms understood what it conveyed. Unlike the others, she was not picking a side. She just felt that it was the right thing to do.

Stevie approached him. "Simms, a word? Privately?" Most everyone was moving away from them now but they stepped a few feet from Harden. Stevie whispered, "Lucas, I have known you a long time. I knew you back when you were just a young regulator, trying to change the world. You're a lot harder than that now. Harder than me, for sure." He took a deep breath, then continued.

"You have three bots and, oh, I think it's six or seven solid, dependable guns. You don't need me. Lucy, she's... well, not quite like a daughter but pretty damn close."

The answer was still no. If a group the size of the force at the Super-Duper Mart attacked they would need every single person. Stevie must have seen the answer in his eyes, because before Simms could say anything he abruptly changed tactics. "I'm not going to let her get killed and eaten by a bunch of cannibals, Lucas. You made a call, I'm disputing it. You don't like it, shoot me. I'm going."

With that Stevie turned and sprinted away before Lucas Simms, sheriff of Megaton, could do a thing to stop him.

* * *

A young raider named Fly saw the group leave. She was part of the loose collection of raider gangs that was tailing the refugees. The boss said it was just another raid, but she knew better. Maybe she was a little strung out, maybe uneducated, a bit young and low on the raider's totem pole, but she was not stupid. The first suspicious thing was that three different gangs were joined. That was not how they usually worked. Second, they were being careful. Instead of charging in the boss who had asserted his dominance over the war party and held them back, making only small skirmishes at night and wearing them down. He even had some people scout ahead, keeping close to the group so they would not lose them.

Red, Fly's recently demoted boss, had a pair of binoculars. The new leader confiscated them and had the scouts use them to help stay on the trail. Then Alex-Hal, another scout, had been killed and the binoculars had been lost. Neither Red nor the new boss had been pleased by that. From then on as punishment those tasked with keeping an eye on the refugees had to leave their guns and other things behind. If they were killed, there would be less of a loss. So Fly felt very exposed with no weapon, hiding out in a ditch south of Arefu.

The departure of a group, two wielding substantial guns and one well-armored, seemed like a good enough excuse to report back. They also knew that the one with the black armor was in withdrawals. The new boss had noticed it in the man's jerky movements and trembling, noticeable even through his metal coating to someone who had seen it many times before.

Overall, the refugees were weakened. Maybe the new boss would want to know. The fact that returning would also bring her back into the ruthless but effective protection of her gang had nothing to do with it. Really.

* * *

At dusk, as the concrete guardrail's shadow was getting longer than his height, Harden finally heard Dad call up someone else for sentry duty.

After the excitement of the merging groups earlier in the day and then the tension of the rescue expedition's departure, Dad tested the skills he had been taught with brutal efficiency. For the rest of the day Harden was to guard the ramp on his own. His father was a few feet behind him, but only as an observer, and the real challenge was endurance. Trying not to fall asleep, get bored or get distracted for hours on end was a surprisingly difficult task. The vest of armor that Dad made him wear under his clothes was a specific problem. It was hot in the Wasteland sun and the armor made him constantly uncomfortable because it was too big for him. It made him want to fidget and adjust himself, but he had to focus on the surrounding area. Striving to prove himself, he repeatedly forced it out of his mind.

When a figure had passed over the slope of a nearby hill three hours later it was Harden who raised the binoculars to get a better look. The left lens had a spiderweb of cracks in it that distorted the man's features.

It was Sam, sent by Dad to test him. Harden only saw a leather-clad man with a gun and sounded the alarm. Then Simms asked for the binoculars, confirmed the man's identity and called it off. He congratulated Harden, recalled Sam, said that he could officially stand guard duty at night and left him for the rest of the watch. The prospect of future night watches was not pleasant, but he was happy that he could contribute something to the group. It had felt awful to think of himself as dead weight.

Now Dad returned and called Zoiks and Timebomb up to relieve him so he could sleep. Again Simms had another of those rare smiles for him. Harden handed over the binoculars to the young man from Bigtown, whose name he forgot at the time. He took them, but then fumbled them at a sudden yell from Zoiks. The pre-war artifact, almost priceless for its function and, more importantly, its functional condition, fell to the ground. Loose shards of glass made a delicate tinkling sound as the previously cracked left lens shattered.

No one cared. Harden and everyone else were distracted by what Zoiks had yelled.

"Raiders!"

Harden saw his father burst into action. "Harden, go tell everyone to get up here! Sam, last time they had a missile launcher. Take out anything big with your sniper! Zoiks, don't waste ammo, wait until they get closer before using the shotgun." All of it he shouted over the sound of his own gunfire, accurate and the first of the battle. He was omniscient. Multitasking the whole time he aimed, fired, and surveyed and directed his own people all at once. The attackers were still at extreme range but the sentrybot opened fire with its minigun. They had a lot of extra 5mm ammo, but it with such a imprecise weapon it was wasting them, and fast. "Sentrybot, hold fire until the targets are within fifty feet!" Then Harden lost view of the spectacle that was his Dad and realized he was running.

People were getting up and emerging from houses all around. Gob, one of the few refugees who, like Sam, was still out on the street, came around the side of the West's former residence with a pistol already out and ready.

"Raiders! Get to the ramp!" he told them as he ran past. Beyond the four main houses was the small cluster of shanties, some of which had already fallen over. Past that was an unused expanse of highway, then he saw Cornelu's prone form. He was unmistakable in his black metal armor. Harden knew that for some reason Dad had hid his helmet in a corner of Karen's house, but he did not know why. The man's painted assault rifle, one of the group's few automatic weapons, was lying against raised side of the overpass and could not be missed in the coming fight. Cornelu himself was of similar worth.

"Hey! Raiders are attacking, can't you hear the gunfire? We need you up there!" He shifted from lying on his side, but did not get up. Because it felt like the thing to do, he grabbed the lying man under the left armpit and pulled up. His armor weighed a ton and a half, but he was not all dead weight. It seemed Cornelu was indeed trying to raise himself but simply did not have the energy or strength.

Not sure what to do from here Harden guided him forward. He seemed to be able to walk unassisted so he let go to grab the sturdy grey assault rifle from where it sat. Cornelu made it a dozen small steps before losing his balance and falling forward.

It took a moment, but Harden finally realized as he saw the bile on the ground around where the metal-clad young man had been that Cornelu was ill. There was a sickly pallor on the small amount of visible flesh, and he could not even walk. Harden did not know what was causing it but it would certainly keep Cornelu out of the battle.

There were a few cracks in the roadbed. Some were very large where the pilings it sat on had settled or shifted unevenly. Knowing that if he left Cornelu out in the open in the condition he was in he might roll or somehow otherwise fall off. Harden could hear the gunfire increasing in volume. The fear and, oddly, anticipation that it aroused in him had adrenaline shooting through his veins. In a rush to finish with the man before him and get back to the fight, he slung Cornelu's gun around his should by the strap, seized his arms and heaved.

It was about thirty five feet to the back of the West's old house and the center of the shanty town. That was well away from any of the cracks, and close to town. He propped Corelu up in a sitting position, then ran off to the battle.

* * *

The low sandbag wall at the entrance to the town was certainly not the only cover available for the defenders of Arefu. The Ewer household blocked off the opposite side of the bridge and created a perfect choke point there. The weathered remains of the concrete divider that ran down the middle of the pre-war highway broke up lines of fire a little. The lanes leading to the entrance was clear all the way down to the ground, but in front of the Ewer house were the corpses of a few vehicles and some other debris. Among this sparse cover, in the thick of the action, were Simms, Perez, Zoiks, Dusty, Evan, the sentrybot and, to some amazement, Gob. The last was armed with nothing but the 10mm he had been issued from the extra guns.

Farther back, the sandbag wall provided shelter to Walter, Karen, Crazy, Lilith and Timebomb. They were either to poorly equipped or too wounded to advance farther. Lilith was an exception to this, but refused to leave Crazy's side. They provided cover fire, but with limited effectiveness. Lilith had an assault rifle that lacked the stopping power of its chinese counterpart, Crazy held his close-range combat shotgun, useless as they were two dozen feet from the front line, and Walter had a hunting rifle that he was not able to use adequately. The others had pistols. The slow and weak protectrons walked past them, firing red beams of energy towards the attackers. One fell almost immediately.

To account for the rest of the group; Maggie was sensibly hiding in Karen's house, Ethyl was doing likewise in the second floor room that she had been given in Evan King's house and Moria was still unconscious in what had been the West's home.

Stockholm figured at the start of the fight that he should get as high as possible. He was a dead shot with his hunting rifle. As the primary sentry for Megaton, back when it existed, he had his own little catwalk over the working gate. Now, with a battle breaking out, his first instinct was to get to a high place.

They had a few seconds between the first volley and the start of an intense, all-out shitstorm so he went back to the wall of the Ewer's house farthest from the conflict and started trying to climb up as best he could. Sam, with his sniper rifle, seemed to have the same idea, so Sam helped push him up while he clawed his way to the roof, then he turned around and pulled Sam up. The roof's tin plates and lack of a solid foothold made it difficult, but they managed.

There was a tiny roofed sniper's nest on a pole another ten feet above them. The thing was wholly inadequate, lacking walls for protection or even a reasonable way to get up to it. With a shared laugh at how much effort had been put into building such a useless post, they belly-crawled to the edge just as the sun was dipping over the horizon and the raiders really started the attack. In the fading light he spotted a body below, in an area where those on his side held. He could not tell who it was.

Stockholm and Sam had little actual cover, only the lip of the flat tin roof, to keep them safe. They had easy pickings of the raiders, but they also _were_ easy pickings. Stockholm was selective of his shots. It made him attract less attention. On his first shot he heard the sound of a missile launcher discharge and leaned out, sighted, found who had it and fired. Then one of them would stand and just spray wildly with a full automatic rifle. He would pop out, aim, shoot and retreat.

He could see that Sam was not being so conservative. With only half a dozen or so clips of five bullets each and with the high expense of the scarce sniper rounds, the other man could not afford to waste them. But he did have ammo, and the others needed cover. That made sense to Stockholm, in a reckless sort of way. However after the third bullet poked through the roof within an inch of Sam he slid back. Stockholm thought that the maybe now other man would slow down and follow his lead. With a bit of discipline and movement to keep the raiders guessing and his combat armor he knew he could provide steady, accurate cover fire with impunity indefinitely. Together they could do even more.

Instead Sam rose to a crouch, moved over to the side of the squat house where the door was and jumped.

Stockholm did not know what the man was doing, and he did not care. He focused on his aiming. Facing from Arefu looking out, the inclined approach was cleared on the left side and cluttered somewhat on the right. The missile launcher lay in the clear area in the left lane. One of them made a move to grab it and received a new hole in their head for their trouble.

The group at the front were engaged in a furious firefight with raiders at the bottom of the ramp. All of the cover was on the right side of the ramp, and the attackers were being funneled by the concrete divider. There was about a twenty foot gap in between the debris occupied by Simms's people and the raider's, and the two entrenched forces were hammering away at each other. The sentrybot was amazing handling most of the rushers who tried to get in close. It would quickly scoot between cover so that it was impossible to pin down, and it could soak up damage without even slowing if it needed to. But it could not be everywhere at once.

Even with the robot it looked to Stockholm like that was the toughest spot. They were up close enough that it was possible for a raider or two to suicidally charge with a melee weapon and actually use it before being taken down. Enemies with shotguns, either sawn-off or more rarely the combat variations, were a problem as well. He was positioned higher than everyone else and picked off a few of the dozen or so attackers trading bullets with those below him. It was difficult with so much for the raiders to hide behind. Twice he hit his target only to graze the person.

A bullet whizzed by and a line of pain raced across Stockholm's left leg. He was lying down on his stomach and the bullet came up through the floor. It hit him on the hip, barely missing the bone, and the extreme angle led it along his leg. It never fully penetrated the skin. In its wake it left a furrow an inch wide and deep and over a foot long. He hit it wit a stim and took a second to let it heal and the pain recede.

In the lull something caught Stockholm's attention. He could hear someone moving around in the house below him. Then the tin sheet a few feet to his right popped up. He swung his rifle around, but it was only Sam.

"What the hell are you doing? And why did you jump off the roof?"

"I got sick of taking such heavy fire without any protection. Bullets go right through this tin shit. Then Harden had the idea to come in here and build a better spot. You can fit, too."

As he said it the rapid gunfire of an assault rifle erupted from the corner of the house just below the level of the roof. It must have been the boy. Sam pushed up on the piece of roof that he was talking through. It bent out of the way making a hole big enough to fit through. Stockholm ignored the suggestion that he abandon his high vantage point for cover and returned his attention to the battle. For a few seconds he risked quick glances over the lip of the roof to get oriented.

The missile launcher was still untouched. The front line was not faring well. The body he had seen earlier moved occasionally, but it was not in a good way. Every once in a while it would jolt as another bullet rocked it. If he or she had been alive when they went down, they were not anymore. Along with that, both protectrons were destroyed and Simms and another figure were hurt. They sat propped up with their backs against an engine-less car. Gob stood over them using Simms's assault rifle.

They were surviving, mostly, but it seemed pointless. Stockholm could see better than anyone the twenty more raiders that were behind those attacking, off the road and past the ramp. They were either taking potshots at the defenders, moving around under and to the sides of the bridge or else just sitting and watching. He sent a few bits of hot lead their way. The idea that they were sitting comfortably just out of range was extremely vexing.

It was crazy. He had always thought that the traditional idea of a completely savage and mindless people was a bit exaggerated, in any group of humans _someone_ would have at least vestiges of complex thought. They could not all be completely moronic and feral. But raiders did fight a certain way. Not this way. They charged in, guns and blunt objects laying waste to most things they would come across int the Wasteland. Now it was like they were actually being held back.

He lost track of the missile launcher. One minute it was there in the middle of the road, the next it was gone. Stockholm downed another rusher, this one with a sawed-off shotgun. The woman was missed by the sentrybot and Gob was reloading, so she managed to make it to cover on their side of the open space. Just as Stockholm got her over the small pile of ruble that shielded her a line of exhaust streaked up the ramp, impacting the sandbag wall. The explosion was tremendously loud and his eyes, straining in the darkness to see anything but blurred shadows and brief muzzle flashes, were immediately overstimulated.

When his vision and hearing returned a few seconds later he looked down over the side of the shack. Most of the eight foot long, meter tall rampart had fallen over, and its remains were aflame. The first thing he saw was a body lying motionless. A mix of black and red pockmarked their torso and face, and they were clearly blown up, scorched and dead. Timebomb was on his back, dazed but moving. Karen was screaming and slapping at her hair, which was on fire. Wolfgang looked dead. The last person, as unidentifiable as the corpse a dozen feet away, was blackened and curled up in the fetal position, but was shaking and rocking in a way that looked nervous and not like convulsive death-spasms. At least that is what he thought at a glance.

Stockholm guessed the raiders had run out of missiles. There were no more vapor trails after that.

Things slowed down immediately afterward. The raiders had opened up fire from the start and had kept it up constantly for half an hour. Now they were running out. Simms had more discipline, and Stockholm had heard him shouting orders keeping the others controlled as well. They had been more careful with the ammo and they probably had started with more than their ill-equipped opponents. In the moments after the explosion, with mainly only their side shooting, the gunfire changed. It would crackle for a moment in a flurry of sound and muzzle flashes, then everything would calm. Then a wave of fire, then calm for ten seconds. Suddenly the refugees felt like they were controlling the fight. When they said 'go' there was fire. When they said 'stop' it stopped.

Sam popped his head up through the hole by Stockholm's feet.

"Hey! What are you waiting for, an invitation? Get down here before you get your ass blown to shit!"

Stockholm checked the view. In all appearances, the fight was coming to an end. Another short wave of their fire swept over the raiders. He quickly made for the opening, staying low. With one hand on the tin roof to lower himself in he felt an abrupt pain in the side of his head. Then he no longer felt anything. The world forever went black for Stockholm, sentry of Megaton.


	25. 4: Ch 4: War

Chapter 4: "War" by Poets Of The Fall

Zoiks watched the death. After the missile explosion she had retreated to the car that Simms, Perez and Gob squatted behind. Looking up at the higher fortifications to get an idea of how they were faring, she saw it. Stockholm moved for a spot on the roof directly above a recently improvised window. Then a splash of red erupted from his temple and he fell. Through the window she saw his feet dangling, so his body must not have made it completely through the hole that was apparently there.

The moment passed and she turned her attention back to her own situation. Her cover was crowded with other people. The sheriff sat facing her and the Ewer's house, his right arm limp by his side. Perez was next to him behind the rusted hulk of a car. The young, wounded and steadfast man was covering one corner of the vehicle in case a raider managed to get close and Gob was keeping a steady, measured fire. The relative safety and the dwindling volume of bullets gave Simms an opportunity to take stock of other parts of the fight, which Zoiks saw him doing.

"Simms! What' de plan?" she yelled. Her speech was measurably improving, but she still had to struggle to be understood even when not in a warzone.

She was unsure if he got the question because before he could say anything Evan, from another bit of cover a few feet away, called, "They're retreating!"

"Alright! Get me and Perez up and back into town, we need to regroup!"

Zoiks lifted Perez as Gob bent down to get the injured sheriff and limp back into Arefu. Evan, the sentrybot and the person in the window of the Ewer's house covered them. One person did not follow.

Dusty, the slightly disturbed sentry from Bigtown, was dead. Right at the beginning of the fight had had been hit and went down. He had been the forward most person, too far away to grab and drag back, and moments later another barrage finished him off. Zoiks had only managed to continue the fight by first vomiting up her dinner and discomfort. Her NIPC, the computer in her head, helped her face the eerie stillness of the human she had just seen running and shooting moments before. She had reminded herself that the battle might be the last stand for the group. Everyone needed to be in the fight or they would die. They had taken her in, fed her, protected her, and they faced the reality of possible annihilation.

She 'manned up,' as some call it, and fought harder than ever to stop her refugees, her comrades, her _family, _from being killed. Even if it might mean her own life instead. So far it had yet only cost her half a dozen bruises from her combat armor stopping bullets, a gunshot wound to the back of her shoulder and a few dislocated fingers on her right hand from a swung wooden bat.

Zoiks vaguely felt them through the adrenaline as she pulled Perez to his feet. He was bleeding from the gut and still he did not let go of his shotgun while they moved. Likewise, she supported him with her left arm while her right hand aimed her own weapon. The backup assault rifle that she usually had slung over her shoulder would have been better for the situation, but it had been disabled by a stray bullet early in the fight.

They followed the sheriff and the ghoul, staggering up the few feet towards where the main entrance to the town had once been. The ground leveled out and the low, looming house to the left provided an illusion of safety. The other fortifications were destroyed, a direct hit from a missile had blown the sandbag wall completely apart. A charred corpse lay nearby, having suffered similarly. The open chest cavity and severe burns that made it indistinguishable showed that it was assuredly dead.

With all protection gone the other defenders had moved back twenty or so feet so that the road where the ramp crested and leveled out kept them out of sight of attackers. Crazy sat up against the concrete guardrail eying them, as if he was not totally convinced they were on his side. Walter, one of the oldest refugees and one of the original Megaton survivors, was also blackened from the blast and was curled up and rocking manically. As Zoiks and Perez tried to get out of sight of the attackers below Simms and Gob vanished into the Ewer's house before Gob returned to the battle. Zoiks heard Evan saying something behind them, which sounded like instructions to the sentrybot. She could not tell what it was about.

Suddenly Zoiks's leg gave out and she fell. After hitting the ground face-first the pain of her head, the new bullet wound on the inside of her knee and all her other injuries hit full force. She screamed, one long loud burst of high pitched sound conveying all of the agony her body was sufering. Without her to brace against Perez tumbled forward, but turned as he did so he could land on his back. She could hear his shotgun's report above and ahead of her so she pulled herself toward him.

Someone's hands reached her and she thought that the raiders had finally broken through. But then they dragged her up, away from the firefight. She looked, expecting to see Gob, or maybe Evan, pulling her across the asphalt to safety. Instead she found it was Perez, bleeding stomach and all, who was rescuing her.

A shadow fell over them. Again Zoiks thought her life was going to end. Perez turned to defend them, reflexes a second faster than hers. She turned to do the same, realizing that should have been her first reaction instead of squeezing her eyes shut, but it was Evan and the sentrybot maneuvering the rusted hulk of the car everyone had been hiding behind moments before. It barely rolled but they were trying to bring it up to the remains of the sandbags to reestablish some cover on the important spot. Evan was pulling, which allowed the robot to push and it protected him from the fire they were drawing, but the slow progress came to a halt after only a few feet.

Perez fell then, probably from blood loss and the exertion saving her had taken. Zoiks noticed that once again her pain was in a distant place, present but no longer consuming. Her body was going into shock. Knowing her mechanical strength could make a difference she hobbled over next to Evan, found a firm hold on the car and heaved. It budged and started forward again. The bare metal wheel almost ran over her lame foot but she managed to catch her balance and continue pulling with the others. In fifteen agonizing seconds the totaled vehicle was moved into place and they had cover.

Truly drained, Zoiks half-fell, half-knelt down next to Perez. A small puddle of blood was spreading around him. For a moment she was worried for him, but then from farther into town Karen ran out to help. She rolled him over, checked the wound and finally injected a stimpack into the bleeding hole in his stomach.

"Shit. He is losing too much blood! Where are the medical supplies?"

Crazy called out weakly in response. "Red had them last. Lucas gave them to her in Bigtown, when she was fixing me up the first time. Check her bedroll, in Evan's house. Cornelu had some stims too, if you run out ask him."

Zoiks was next to be treated, and a dull ache pulsed up through her sluggish right arm as her finger bones were set. A similar feeling came from her shoulder when the other woman rooted around for the bullet. Searing pain cut through the fog as her body came back out of shock from a stimpact and she clenched her jaw from the sudden feeling. When the Arefu resident was finished she left.

A strange thing happened as Zoiks accidentally bit through a part of her tongue, stopped because she could once again sense hurt and felt the muscle instantly fix itself. As the stim did its job the fire inside her dimmed to centers of heat around her shoulder, mouth and the back of her left knee, but the knitting together of cartilage in her hand continued to burn like it was in an inferno.

Gob turned back to them and yelled, "They're coming! All of them!"

At that Zoiks rose and hefted her gun. She swayed on her feet, but with her new scars no longer bleeding she was ready for the next round. Perez, at her feet, did not get back up. Karen arrived just then with two bags and dug into them. Moments later a blood pack was threaded into Perez's arm, then Karen left him.

Seeing Perez lying unconscious after risking his life to save her, Zoiks's previous protective zeal overwhelmed her. No one was going to hurt that man again while she was alive to do anything about it. She picked up his shotgun and rifled through his pockets for shells. If all of their enemies really were attacking all at once it was going to be one hell of a fight so she was going to need them. With so many dead or wounded more weapons lay about. She made a mental note of their locations and, without any more hesitation, moved up to the bullet-riddled car frame that made up the front line intent on killing as many raiders as possible.

* * *

Simms lay on his side just inside the door of the Ewer house with a limp arm and a new hole in his ass. One of the wild, spraying attacks that the insane raiders occasionally tried had put a pair of bullets into his left thigh. The first seemed to have slammed against his hip bone, the other had passed through and taken a part of his buttock with it. An iron pipe, thrown by a charging enemy, broke his forearm a few minutes later so he had handed his gun of to the closest person, Gob.

Now he was stuck inside, injured and out of the fight. Sam had a few stims, but they could not risk closing the leg wound without first getting the bullet out from were it was embedded in his hip. No one could spare the time to do that because everyone was needed to hold off the raiders. Simms had tried to poke around himself but without success. He could not see into the wound and just blindly reaching his fingers into the gaping hole was only a last resort option. That could cause much more harm than good.

So all he could do was watch the two others in the house fire out the window. He drew his heavy .44 revolver from where it was hidden within his brown trench coat, just in case. With so many enemies around he felt naked without some sort of weapon. From where he was Simms could see Sam and Harden using the excellent firing position, the ex-raider popping off sniper shots every ten seconds while Harden gradually lessened the number of short, controlled bursts he released from Cornelu's assault rifle. He was impressed with his son's clarity in a crisis.

He was also shitting himself with worry. Harden was ten. _Ten. _The armor he was wearing, the impressive gun that he had gotten from somewhere, none of it mattered. He should not be fighting in this battle.

But the whole group might be overrun and killed if the raiders were not held off. And Harden had joined the sudden fight of his own free will. He had been told to go tell the others back in town, not to find a defensive position, pick up a gun, which Simms realized must be Cornelu's, and start shooting raiders. What could he do?

One of the Arefu residents burst in the door, interrupting Simms's thoughts. It was the girl who had chosen not to go on the rescue mission of Lucy's brother. It seemed so long ago. Simms though her name was Carol. She had a light burn on her cheek and the hair on the right side of her head was blackened and gnarled.

She saw him and his leg and pulled out a stim from the two bags she carried.

"No, you have to get the bullet out first."

"Yes, I know. Hold still." She set the needle down next to him and lay beside his leg so she could see the injury. Pain raced up Simms body as she probed the second entry wound.

"No, the other one," he said through clenched teeth.

In moments a small, deformed bit of metal went _plink_ onto the ground. Relief flooded the sheriff's body as he healed by the woman. She discarded the used stim.

"Thank you Carol."

She gave him a look and said, "It's Karen. And you're welcome." Then she looked around, saw there were no other wounded, and left again.

From outside Gob yelled, "They're coming! All of them!"

Jumping into action Simms went over to where a body hung from a hole in the ceiling. He pulled it down and caught it to find that it was Stockholm, the sentry from Megaton that he had know and worked with for fifteen years. Dead. Even after all of the death and killing he had seen and done over his lifetime, it affected him.

But he did not have time for that, so he slipped his revolver back into his coat and reached for Stockholm's hunting rifle. The window was about three feet wide and half a foot long. Below it was a wooden dresser that stopped any bullets that might come at them, and the position was occupied by Harden and Sam. Simms looked out over them for a glimpse of what was happening.

Gob was right, all of the two dozen remaining raiders were charging up the ramp towards them. Because most of them had been held back until now these fresh one had plenty of ammo, and none of them had injuries to slow them down. Instead of using the cover on the right side of the highway they ran straight up the open left lanes for the main entrance. Simms did not know that Evan and Zoiks had moved the car, so he still thought the town's entrance was defenseless.

They were not going to survive unless he got outside and organized some of the others to hold them off. And it was certain that they were going to lose the first line of defense, at the very least. The town might very well be overrun completely.

"Harden, Sam; keep hitting them until they get close, then get outside and fall back farther into the town. We are going to have to retreat, and I don't want you getting cut off from us." He looked at his son for the last part. A glance from the sheriff could emote with surprising accuracy. It was understood, clearly and explicitly.

He emerged from the Ewer's house and was pleasantly surprised. There was cover for the front entrance. Zoiks, Evan, and Gob crouched behind a familiar rusted car that had been moved to block most of the space between the building he had just left and the concrete guardrail. The sentrybot rolled back and forth behind them, shooting from one end of the car then moving to the other and repeating. Crazy Wolfgang sat propped up against the guardrail ten feet behind the car, Karen working on him. Perez lay unconscious next to them. Timebomb had his hands over his head and was cowering even farther back. Walter was severely burnt but was alive and rocking back and forth disturbingly.

A completely destroyed body lay among the scene like an accent to the macabre theme. Broken or dropped guns were scattered around. Next to the charred corpse was an assault rifle, a normal brown one. It was slightly hot to the touch but he picked it up anyway, putting his back away.

Simms joined the others on the front line. The raiders were still about halfway down the ramp. The car was right on the crest of the hill because it tipped a little when he leaned on it. It gave the sheriff an idea. They would need to retreat soon anyway, in about fifteen seconds the cover would be useless to them.

"Harden, get back!" he shouted over the gunfire. "Everyone, stop shooting and lift the car."

Evan, Gob and Zoiks looked at him like he was crazy, but followed the command. They slung their weapons over their shoulders and pulled up on the bottom of the ancient vehicle. It tipped up, hinging on the two wheels closest to the raiders. Just as they were about to flip it over Simms called out, "Sentrybot! Ram the car! NOW!"

The military robot stopped its circuit and ran full force into the upturned vehicle. It was pushed over the edge of the plateau that Arefu was built on, then fell down the ramp towards the charging raiders just as they were getting uncomfortably close.

However now the defenders had no cover whatsoever. Immediately a bullet pinged off of the gun Simms had just picked up and bent it. Completely without thought he threw it after the car at the enemies.

"Retreat! Everyone back farther into town. Pick up people and guns as you go, we're going to need them."

The broken husk of the pre-war car made small vibrations through the bridge as it tumbled and slid its way down the ramp, crushing many of the attackers on its way down. But suddenly a major shudder ran through the whole structure. Right from the foundation up.

Everyone was already picking up the wounded and the discarded weapons, as per Simms's orders. Karen had Crazy up and walking, and Walter seemed to have broken the mental spell that had overcome him. Harden and Sam abandoned the Ewer's house. They were all headed deeper into the buildings, and when it happened everyone looked up from what they were doing, wide-eyed with fear.

"Maybe that was the car?" Karen asked hopefully.

"No," Simms replied, "the foolish man built his house upon the two hundred-year-old fucking bridge. They're attacking the supports! Some of you hold here. The rest come with me. We need to get everyone out of the town."

Crazy, Sam, Walter and the sentrybot stayed. In the few seconds respite they tried moving Perez and attempting to rouse Timebomb from his paralysis. Then they focused on picking off the odd raider that popped their head over the top of the ramp. Simms led the others in a swift evacuation.

"Bring Moria out and carry her. Harden, get Maggie. Someone grab the handcart. Karen, Evan; go into your stockpiles and fill the handcart with food." Simms ran through a checklist, but kept losing his place. So many people were dead or had left town. It was impossible to keep track of everyone. "Who else is still here?"

"Dad, Cornelu is just behind the West's house!" Harden shouted just before leaving to get Maggie.

"Zoiks, go get Cornelu! He is-" Simms stopped. Although she was lagging behind, trying to put in a last few shots at the raiders, she had managed to hear Harden over the gunfire and all the other sounds of warfare. She shot Simms a look that said 'On it' and took off, past the other buildings to the shantytown the refugees had built the night before.

She returned a few moments later carrying the ill man and pulling her rusted red wagon behind her. Comically, the potted Mutfruit plant Zoiks carried in the wagon was doing fine amid the bullets and explosions that were tearing up the humans. Still coated in the black power armor, Cornelu weighed her down and made it difficult to move. There was no way he was getting out fast enough if carried that way. In fact he was amazed that the petite woman could lift the immense load with the ease she did.

With all of the more important things to worry about, Simms completely forgot about the black metal helmet for Cornelu's armor. The armor did not activate without the final piece, and that was still hidden away in Karen's house.

Karen, Harden and Maggie came out of said house laden with her stockpile of food and a few bottles of pure water. They threw most of it into the handcart and some into Zoiks's wagon.

Gob, arms full carrying an unconscious Moria, kicked open the door to the West's house and hurried out. Seeing the ghoul could no longer use the painted assault rifle he held, Simms asked, "Gob, my gun?" The Gob did not protest and handed the weapon over.

Evan emerged from his house with an armful of dried brown brahmin meat and pre-war food packages. Ethyl followed him, but was not carrying anything. He dropped the victuals into the handcart as well.

Evan said, "I found Ethyl. She was hiding in the room I gave her."

Another shudder ran through the length of the decrepit bridge. It was worse this time. Simms lost his balance and fell, but angrily jumped back up. He did not have time to be falling down.

"Alright, good. Give Zoiks a hand with Cornelu, we have to get moving."

Evan grabbed Cornelu and together he and Zoiks managed to shoved his limp form up on top of the mostly full handcart. The extra weight slowed the contraption though, and the two of them could not pull it much at all, not to mention at a reasonable speed.

To solve the situation Simms called out, "Sentrybot, get back here!" The large metal robot was pockmarked with holes and the left arm hung by its side. That arm was the missile launcher arm, which it lacked ammo for anyway. It still could move and shoot its minigun arm, and that was all the group needed of it. Simms, Zoiks and Evan hashed the rods of the handcart to the robot. It was not pretty, but it held.

They did not have time for Simms to stop and check to see if they had forgotten anything. He thought they had all of the people, and there was some food and some water. The ragged band of refugees was as ready as Simms could make them. "Alright. We have to get off this bridge. The raiders should be pretty worn down. Don't stop until your feet are on solid ground! _Charge!_"


	26. 4: Ch 5: Humanity

Chapter 5: Humanity

Gob shifted Moria so that she hung over his right shoulder to be able shoot with his dominant left hand. He still had the spare 10mm pistol that he had been issued so long ago. It seemed like this fight was lasting weeks, and the unending march before it that blurred everything together.

As Simms's short speech ended everyone rushed for the ramp. A few extra shouted directions from the sheriff and they managed to form a loose column. The sentrybot-handcart was in front, flanked by Evan and Simms to spearhead the attack. Cornelu lay on top of it. Directly behind them, in the shadow of the contraption, Timebomb and Maggie carried Perez and the blood pack that was attached to him, respectively. Harden, Crazy and Zoiks protected them from bullets with their armored bodies and laid down cover fire. Gob was at the back of the line with Karen, Walter, Sam and Ethyl.

Everyone ran and fired at the raiders in front of them. Even Crazy Wolfgang, who was still pretty messed up from the missile explosion and the previous fight in Bigtown, added his lead to the barrage, though he started to lag behind.

The charge managed to steer around the wreckage of the car that was halfway down the ramp. A few people slipped in the blood from the dozen or so mangled bodies there. After thirty terrifying, never-ending seconds of running and screaming and ducking bullets and shooting and running some more, Gob found himself on flat ground. They made it. By some minor miracle, all of them did.

He could hear Simms continue yelling orders, getting things organized. "Get the wounded behind the handcart. Sam, pick off the ones that are still fighting. Finish them!" The sheriff slammed the butt of his grey rifle into the connection between the sentrybot and the handcart to let the robot get back into the fight. Gob set the unconscious Megaton woman he was carrying down with the others that were hurt and turned back to the last of the enemies.

Of the massive group that had been attacking them, only a few still had the ability and inclination to fight. But few of the refugees did either. Only Gob, Sam, Zoiks, Simms and the robot turned back to the fight. The confusion that the charge had caused in the raider's already unorganized line made them easy to pick off for the experienced marksmen and the automated gun. Gob and Zoiks made very little difference, but fired anyway. With a few last bullets the battle for Arefu finally came to a close.

Returning to the wounded, Gob tried to make himself helpful. He had no medical training but figured he could do basic things if someone needed him to. The first person he happened upon was Moria, right where he had left her. He checked her over for any blood stains and found that while being toted around she had been shot in the back of the calf.

Everyone was pooling their stimpacks now, the result of another efficient instruction from Simms, and Gob grabbed one. He jabbed it into Moria's hurt leg and pushed the plunger. He did not know that it would have healed fine with only a quarter that dosage of the potent healing agent, but ignorance is bliss.

Giving the Megaton shopkeeper another inspection for injuries he saw that there were a few flakes of dead skin on her neck. Assuming they had brushed off of himself when he had been carrying her, he swept them away.

They did not move.

Looking closer Gob noticed that her skin was drying out everywhere, along her face, arms and newly healed leg even. While he watched a small slab of flesh on her check came loose and fell off.

It was well known that Moria had been especially close to the bomb when it went off, but no one had thought that maybe the radiation she had received would change her. It just did not happen very often. But God could clearly see the signs, he had gone through them himself.

Moria Brown, former eccentric shop owner of Craterside Supply in Megaton, was undoubtedly turning into a ghoul.

* * *

Stevie, Red and Kimba emerged from Northwest Seneca Metro Station completely exhausted. Kimba was bloodied, and the old Wastelander was hurt so badly that Red had to help him along. The rescue attempt had been a misadventure, to put it as delicately as possible. An ill-conceived disaster from the start was more accurate.

When the group of six managed to find the Family's hideout in the bowels of D.C.'s pre-war subway they were met with surprising hospitality. Keeping things civil they asked to see Ian West and a man named Vance came out to talk with them.

He was the head of the Family and spoke of how they were trying to help Ian. When the leader talked his voice and demeanor sent chills up Stevie's spine, an unease not at all dissuaded by the strange metal container strapped to the man's back. Lucy had exploded at the man and demanded to see her brother. Vance dropped a bombshell then, claiming that Ian had willingly joined the Family, and that they were indeed helping him with a self-realization. The already tense situation snapped and Lucy opened fire. Vance pulled an outlandish sword that he lit aflame, presumably with a flammable liquid stored in the reservoir on his back.

When the smoke cleared Stevie had a burning cut on his leg, a bullet in his forearm, a few new dents in his armor and the only other people alive were Red and Kimba. They heard more Family members coming from deeper in the tunnels so the three had run, abandoning the senseless mission. They passed Murphy and Barrett, two ghouls who Stevie sometimes did business with, on the way out. They had a mutually beneficial relationship, but the two certainly did not stick their neck out for him when he passed by with an assortment of new holes in his body.

Now Stevie, Red and Kimba were just reaching the cold, bracing air of the Wasteland night at Northwest Seneca Station. Located a few hundred feet directly north of Arefu on the other side of the river, it was just possible for them to hear distant gunfire. A lot of it. It was punctuated with the low rumbling of an explosion.

Panic enveloped them and they hobbled forward. Across the Potomac the town was under attack.

They moved as fast as they could. Stevie pushed through the pain in his leg. Without the anesthetic of adrenalin he could no longer run on it. The bullet in his arm made it unsafe for him to use a stimpack on himself.

But it slowed them down, and they needed to get back as soon as possible, so without stopping he took out the combat knife he kept in his boot and jabbed quickly at the bleeding hole above his wrist. A choked sound escaped through his bared teeth, but he felt around for the metal with the tip of the blade and forced it out, then quickly followed the violent procedure with a stim.

It had been a long time since he had been forced to such extreme measures. That is what happened when people charge in without thinking. Even with his sadness at the loss of Lucy he was more angry at her senseless, grief-driven attack and the deaths it had led to.

The deep, jagged laceration on his wrist did not heal fully with only one stimpack, but it slowed the copious bleeding from the big veins he had damaged. Stevie paused for a second to stab another needle into himself, this one next to the slice across his burnt thigh. Finally he regained the full use of his leg and they sped up to a fast jog.

There was a flash of light and the sound of a blast at the bottom of one of the bridge's supports. Attention drawn, through the darkness Stevie saw a pair of raiders near it. One held a missile launcher. The other carried a stack of rockets in his arms.

The wide riverbed was only partially flowing, which was normal for autumn in the D.C. Wasteland, so they made it across in only a few minutes. Too late, when he looked up again the woman who held the missile launcher had already loaded another missile into it and she fired at the support.

Nothing happened.

The explosive's propulsion failed to ignite. It popped out a few feet and fell to the ground with no effect. Stevie heard the raiders swear and they started reloading again. Two scorched black circles on the tower of cement and a few loose missiles on the ground indicated that so far they had met with only limited success.

Above them the ambient noise of the fighting intensified. People screaming in rage and the sound of many people running reverberated through the bridge above them.

Rushing now, he led the way towards the raiders so he could get a clear shot. The one with the launcher, a woman, used it once more before Stevie could unload on them. The missile flopped to the ground like the other one had.

Stevie fired. The woman went down, dropping the tubular weapon. Kimba joined his target practice with her hunting rifle, but missed because of her own injury on her shoulder. The raider man fumbled the five missiles he was holding, each a foot and a half long, and tried to pull a handgun. He died before his hand touched the weapon.

Stevie knew from experience that the problem the raiders had been having was from the launcher being severely damaged and under-repaired. It was not igniting the propellant of the missiles. The missiles themselves, however, were probably still good, and the sentrybot would be able to use them. He grabbed seven, an armful, from the ground as he went by.

Moving on, they climbed the hill to where the overpass met the ground. Stevie led them up the right side, as the left was were the abandoned Arefu house was. The battle seemed to have died down judging from the volume of gunfire. A final crack of a rifle ended it, and Stevie poked his head out to see what happened.

Simms and all the others were out on the roadbed in front of the ramp. They had brought the sentrybot, which was severely damaged, and the handcart, upon which lay Cornelu. Everyone was hurt in some way, either majorly or not. A few, notably Lilith and Stockholm, were missing.

Sam was on guard while the rest tried to recover. Stevie called out to him before approaching, to reduce his chances of being shot for no reason. Some of the refugees turned to watch them. Most did not bother.

Red put Kimba with the other wounded and started trying to figure out how badly people were hurt. Walter and Crazy were the worst, hurt in a blast of some kind. Probably the missile launcher. But Stevie did not pay attention, eyes on Simms.

The sheriff turned away from organizing where the group was going to sleep to him, Stevie. A motion, almost a twitch of the man's dark skinned hand, indicated they should talk in private. Stevie set down the armful of explosives and followed, heading away from the others.

"Is she dead?" Simms asked softly. He faced out toward the expanse of the Wasteland. It was probably to keep an eye out for raiders. It was also likely that he did not want to face Stevie for this conversation.

"Yes."

"And the other two Arefu residents?"

"Yes."

A moment passed. "So are Stockholm, Lilith, and Dusty. Perez is likely too, and Walter and Crazy are close." Stevie stewed for a few seconds, then the sheriff added, "Harden was shot. Nicked him just below the armpit, glancing off of his ribs and the vest I make him wear. Less than a finger's length from his heart."

Simms turned to him at that. "I understand why you did what you did. I even admire how you did it, making sure you didn't undermine my authority by disagreeing in front of everyone else. If it wasn't for that, I'd have grabbed Sam's rifle and shot you on the spot if you ever came back.

"But we were attacked, and you weren't here for it. Against my explicit order. How do you think the others feel about you three just waltzing in here after they had to fight and bleed and die to get out of that town alive?

"If we didn't need all the help we could get, I'd ban you, here and now. But you know I won't do that, because we need you, shady past regardless. You know these Wastes, we don't. But that is all you are from now on, if you chose to stay. A guide. A hired gun, maybe. Once we get back on our feet, you can go back to scavenging and merc-ing, or become a trader, or fall off a cliff or I don't give a shit. But you're not joining us."

Stevie held the sheriff's gaze, then replied, "Understood, _sir_." It was much more than a juvenile attempt at sarcasm, the decades old man was better than that. The emphasis was much deeper, and Simms flinched for the revolver that Stevie knew was hidden in the left inside pocket of the brown coat he wore.

But then he smiled, something that Stevie saw as a feral, evil smile of power and corruption, and acknowledged the double meaning. "If that is what it takes, I would gladly." Then he walked away.

The insinuation into his past infuriated the old Wastelander. Pain from the wounds on his arm and thigh suddenly became a burning expression of his fury and he reveled in it. He had spotted a nest of mirelurks, blue crab-monsters, when crossing the Potomac with Red and Kimba. They were not nocturnal so they would be sleeping. Stevie decided to go slaughter them to blow off some steam.

* * *

Perez came out of unconsciousness, which is significantly different from waking up from sleep, an hour after the last raider died. A pack of pre-war blood ran to the crux of his arm and he was not leaking the vital fluid back out through openings in his body, which was good. He had been healed. Well, mostly. He still hurt like hell.

For a few moments he just lay there, the ache that enveloped him countering the feeling of relief in his muscles. He was not fighting. There was no immediate need to jump up and run around and fire his shotgun and drag people across the ground through a hail of bullets. That was a luxury in itself. He was alive, and he did not have to move. He fell into a normal sleep.

A commotion woke him. From the chill in the air he could tell it was still before dawn, but around him he felt and heard people moving and whispering anxiously. Then a loud _crack_ split the night and he jolted up. The group was in a building, makeshift and composed of debris like most structures since the war, and everyone was looking out a pair of windows on one side of the room. Perez had an actual bed frame, so raised as he was he could see out one of the portals to the outside.

The ancient overpass that Arefu was built on made another loud noise and suddenly dropped sixty feet to the partially dry riverbed below. The roar of crashing blocks of concrete and displaced air was deafening for a few seconds.

Delirious from sleep and pain, Perez did not understand any of it. Everyone else just went back to sleep. Just one more settlement to scratch off the map of the Wasteland.

When Perez awoke next it was for good. He opened his eyes and saw brightness through the window. It was daytime, time to get up.

He found his body sluggish in its responses to what his brain told it to do, but he assumed that could be attributed to the fatigue of fighting an all-out battle in the middle of the night. The day before had been intended by Simms to be a rest day. So much for that.

The blood bag had drained into his veins while he slept, so he removed the needle and the empty packet before standing. A lot of other people were still sleeping so he quietly found the exit. He stepped out to find that the building he was leaving was the previously abandoned shack outside of Arefu. That made sense. It was the only building nearby that they could take shelter in after the attack. He chided himself for not putting that together sooner, but chalked it up to the fatigue.

Simms was up, and he was digging holes. No, not holes. The figures that lay nearby clearly identified the rectangles dug into the ground as graves. Over the loud protest of his muscles, Perez went to join him.

There was only one spade so he started with a rake and a hand shovel. While they were working Zoiks came over from the wreckage of Arefu with another body. She and Evan King seemed to be searching the ruins. A fire downwind of the group was the destination of the raiders they found.

"How are you holding up?" Perez asked the sheriff.

That earned him a look. With all of the natural authority in the man's face, it was a potent look. "Fine," was the curt reply.

"Just wanted to get across that some of us understand you are only human. The image of the solid leader that will guide us through this, that won't be tarnished by little things like natural emotions. The image of being an indestructible hardass might be, but that is not the image that is important."

He could see Simms's temple throb at his arrogance for speaking so openly, and for insinuating that he was not in fact an indestructible hardass. But that was a quality that made good raider gang bosses, not good sheriffs and regulators. Perez knew that, and he knew Simms knew that.

After a few minutes the dark man in the brown trenchcoat put down his spade, sat down on the edge of the grave he was digging and cried. Tears streaked down over the grim on his face, through his black beard and vanished into the thirsty dirt below him.

When Zoiks approached with another body ten minutes later both men were digging ditches again.

"Thanks Perez," the sheriff said softly. "I think I needed that. So, you probably want to know what happened while you were out, huh?"

At Perez's nod he explained the strategy of the retreat, the improvised car attack that Simms had thought up and the evacuation after the raiders started going after the bridge supports. The deaths were confused, in the heat of the fight no one was sure the order, but Dusty, Stockholm and Lilith had perished. The last was killed in the missile explosion that had destroyed the sandbag wall and she was only identifiable by process of elimination. No one else was dead or missing, save Bittercup who was found later. The final charge out of Arefu pushed the survivors through the last of the raiders and the battle had ended.

Then Stevie, Kimba and Red had returned. The rescue for Lucy's brother had failed. After that Simms organized a move into the abandoned house to fend off the Wasteland night's bitter cold. The body of the Bigtown girl named Bittercup was there, mutilated and desecrated by raiders. Apparently she had disobeyed Simms's order for everyone to stay in town.

Since then the supports that held up Arefu had finally given way. People were recovering the bodies and looting the weapons that had been used during the battle. Stockholm had been found under the twisted tin sheets of the Ewer's house and his ragged combat armor lay folded next to a growing pile of armaments collected by the scavengers.

With the story retold Perez asked, "So what are we going to do now?"

"Now we are going to have to find someplace else to live. It means more marching, but I'm not going to push the group. They had a tough night, they can sleep in. When everyone is up we will bury our dead, hopefully to give people some closure but also to remind them we are real people, not savages. Then we will eat and move out."

The funeral was a success, at lest for what it intended. The losses depressed everyone, but the occasional whiff of burning flesh brought to mind the raiders and how they did nothing for their dead except mutilate them. The ritual made them feel a certain sense of normalcy and humanity.

When Crazy Wolfgang wept for his 'bodyguard' Perez helped comfort him, gently patting him on the back to avoid aggravating the man's freshly healed bones. Simms stood over Stockholm's grave a moment and a few drops of moisture fell into the hole to join the ones from earlier. Lucy and the other two Arefu residents were remembered, but their bodies were still in the tunnels where the Family lived. Red, Kimba and Timebomb said goodbye to Dusty without as much emotion. No one really mourned Bittercup. From the other Bigtowners' accounts she sounded like a slut and a bitch.

Then the guns and other scavenged equipment were distributed. Perez received Stockholm's old armor from Simms, which made him feel a little safer. Unexpectedly, after things were wrapping up and everyone was getting ready to head out, Stevie showed up. He carried a cloth sack over his shoulder and a huge metal pot under one arm, which caused some curiosity. Someone asked, "What's in the sack?"

"Food." He set the bag down and added, "Wait here, don't leave yet." Everyone looked to Simms, and when he did not object they settled back down again. Certainly, no one complained about postponing another tiring, mind-numbing march. Stevie went down to the river and filled the pot with water before lugging it back up. "Do you want a hot, fresh meal, people?"

Sam shouted, "Hell yeah!" but the others were not as enthusiastic. Perez was more curious about what the food was and how Stevie had obtained it.

He got his answer when he flipped open the top of the cloth bag to reveal the distinctive bluish meat of a mirelurk. Mirelurks had some of the best tasting meat in the Wasteland, but were more of a delicacy than a staple due to the difficulty of killing the creatures. "Just went hunting, so I figured I'd grab enough to feed everyone. Found this big pot too. Perfect for what I wanted."

Stevie set about making a good sized fire, mostly burning wooden parts from the rubble of Arefu, and started cooking the food. Perez saw Zoiks take two good sized mutfruit from the strange plant she kept in her wagon and offered them, and the two cooks spent a few minutes chopping the luminescent pods to add them to the mix.

The final ingredient was four crushed tablets of Rad-x to help protect the refugees from the radioactive ingredients. There was plenty of the thick, hearty stew to go around. Almost everyone had a second helping and it helped raise their spirits.

During the meal Perez sat next to Zoiks. He thanked her for the mutfruit, it added a pleasant tang that accented the saltiness of the crab meat, and they talked for a while. There was a natural ease between them since they had saved each other in the battle. The companionship was enjoyable.

Finally, stomachs full and injuries mostly healed, the refugees of Megaton, Bigtown and Arefu and the strays that had joined them headed off. Their destination: the rocky outcrop North of them that Stockholm had pointed out the day before. They were going to take the solid foundation, plant their flag and finally have a place to call their own.

* * *

AN/ Shit. Sorry for not updating yesterday like I said I would. I had the chapter written, I just forgot. A lot on my mind with end of the year exams, getting ready for college and all that. Sorry.


	27. 4: Ch 6: Foundation

Chapter 6: Foundation

Caleb Smith sat dangling his legs off the top of the perfectly cut stone wall. He was a former slave and the only member of the Temple of the Union who had not been massacred when it was ambushed by slavers. He had been off trying and find the Lincoln Memorial at the time and had unsuccessfully returned to find everyone dead. The artifacts of the Great Emancipator had been either defiled or stolen.

With no direction he had wandered. He managed to fend off a few small raider gangs with his sledgehammer or the hunting rifle Hannibal, leader of the Temple, had given him. The more serious threats he had avoided or run away from. The night of the Megaton explosion he had been far enough away to avoid the concussive blast that scorched the tops of buildings for a mile around. Life was horrifying and pointless.

Drifting aimlessly he had come across the WKML Broadcast Station. The three projecting radio towers and the solid stone building itself were located on top of a natural plateau. On three sides rocky cliffs made it very difficult to reach, but the forth side was a beautifully cut pre-war stone wall made of regularly sized blocks that was completely insurmountable. Facing it from the front, the left side of this perfectly vertical plane boasted a large poster about the Enclave which had been augmented with graffiti by raiders. A parking lot spread out before the wall, and at the precise midpoint a marble staircase receded into the wall, presumably so it did not project out into the parking lot.

When he was a slave Caleb had been a mason, working with cutting stone and building with it for his master. To him the sight was a marvel of masonry.

Right then the raiders that had occupied it had a dispute. At the foot of the wall Caleb was a good twenty feet below them so they had not seen him. He heard one yelling about how he should be leader. A fight broke out, and after a minute of gunfire and clubbing people, things calmed.

He felt angry that the crazed, anarchistic ruffians would defile such an excellent pre-war construction, and with no regard for his own life charged up the stairs to attack them.

There had only been three still alive, and they were taken by surprise. Caleb won.

Since then he had been living in, cleaning up, defending and constantly admiring the WKML Broadcast Station all by himself.

The 'defending' part up until then had not been tested, as no one bothered him. But as he passed time on top of the wall late one evening he spotted a group on the eroding street just past the edge of the parking lot. There was a lip of stone six inches high and a foot wide bordering the edge of the wall and he moved back so that he could lay behind the sparse cover it provided. The fact that he was twenty feet above the people gave him much more of an advantage than anything else he had, but the band of people had at least a dozen individuals, if not more. No matter what, if they wanted to kill him they were going to.

* * *

The trek took the refugees four days. Cornelu finally came out of the stupor caused by his heavy withdrawals on the second. The incessant, hungry feeling in his chest did not go away and neither did the headache, but he was able to put down food without extreme nausea and his body no longer wracked with tremors and spasms. He regained some cognitive thought as well, which is how he noticed that Red no longer gave him regular doses of jet and med-x.

Once he was fit again he was removed from the black armor that encased him. Without the helmet he could not keep up while wearing it, and when he asked about where it was he was told that it had been lost. The armor was kept in the handcart and Cornelu was given a spare brahmin skin outfit to wear.

Then the other violations came. Apparently there had been a battle while he was suffering, and Harden had taken his gun. Because he was 'a junkie,' as Simms put it, the painted assault rifle was not returned. There were more guns though, albeit of lesser quality, and he was issued a hunting rifle. To top it all off, the stimpacks in his armor and the other medical supplies in his bag had been commandeered and given to Red. He might be a better doctor, but she was not addicted to chems, Simms explained to him.

He tried to argue, but the others were feeling particularly loyal to the sheriff. Something had changed while he had been convulsing. Everyone was closer now. There was more of an emphasis on 'we's and 'us's, as if the previous factions of Megaton, Bigtown, Arefu and 'Other' were braking down. Cornelu could tell he was not included in this new group unity. Strangely, Stevie was not either. He did not ask why, but the new attitude was setting the foundation for a wall between Cornelu and the others.

He suffered through the journey, ashamed at how far he had fallen. During the trip the refugees encountered a modest raider camp, a small super mutant camp and a whole warren of mole rats. Because of the ammo and several new guns from the defeated Arefu raiders the group was more well armed than ever and managed to emerge from each hostile meeting with no fatalities, but the injuries sustained consumed the last of Red's cumulative supply of stimpacks.

At last, they made it to the destination. Because no one seemed to be willing to talk to him Cornelu had no idea what they were walking towards until he looked upon the impressive structure. A plateau with three radio towers on it loomed ahead of them, rising above the immediate landscape. Even more than that, the only way up was a staircase built right into a tall stone wall, and between the towers sat a short building of similar sturdy construction. It was extremely defensible.

A parking lot lay before the wall, and as the group headed across the relatively open pavement things got tense. It did not look like there was anyone already on the high wall, but if there was it would be extremely hard to take it from them. Simms directed the noisy sentrybot-handcart contraption to stop while the rest approached.

Suddenly a voice called out, "Hold it! Who are you and what do you want?"

"We are refugees. We have no home and have been traveling for several days. What you see here are the remains of the towns Megaton, Bigtown and Arefu. We were hoping this place was abandoned. I see that it is not, but could we ask of you a few night's rest?" The rest of the group turned to more interesting things, like checking for ambushes, while the sheriff stepped forward to give the now routine greeting and story. Cornelu did note, however, that only Simms could say those things in a way that did not sound like begging.

There was a pause, then the same voice countered with his own questions, "You are awfully well armed for refugees. Are you peaceful people? If I let you in you won't attack me?"

"We only have these weapons because we have been attacked several times by raiders, and we took their guns and ammo afterward. I was sheriff of Megaton before the disaster. You have my word that we will not harm you if we can help it."

"You are Lucas Simms, of Megaton?"

"Yes."

"Okay. Come on up, then."

Cornelu went with the others up the steps. Things got very dark as the walls enveloped them on either side, then gradually brightened as they rose.

The stone building was a few feet away from where they emerged, with a large clear space in front of it before the wall dropped away. Behind it was a narrow space of rocky, uneven ground between its back wall and the natural cliff. To either side of the structure the plateau continued, sloping down to slightly lower flat areas. Each one rounded out to form something of a rough oval if seen from above. Overall, the island in the sky was about sixty feet wide and a hundred and fifty feet long, raised twenty or so feet off the round on average an variations of two or three feet up and down.

One of the radio towers stood in front of the building, near where the carved stone wall ended to the group's left. Another one was to each side of the building on the lower wings of the plateau. Next to the center tower was a single man sporting a hunting rifle against one shoulder, a sledgehammer across his back and a 10mm pistol at his hip. When they did not attack him he smiled and said, "Welcome to the WKML Broadcast Station. So you are Lucas Simms?"

"Yes," the sheriff answered.

"Well then you have my respect, sheriff. I'm Caleb Smith. I'm an escaped slave and I used to be part of the Temple of the Union. I heard your name a few times there."

Cornelu saw Simms fidget. That was odd. "Yes, I can see how you might have. How is Hannibal?"

"You haven't heard? The Temple was wiped out by slavers." He said it with the deepest sorrow, yet somehow also conversationally.

"What! Ah- when? How did they find it?"

"I do not know," Caleb replied.

"Sorry," Perez interjected, "but the Temple of the Union, it was what exactly?"

Simms explained, "A refuge and safe haven for escaped slaves. When we first left the Megaton ruins I made a decision where to try to find shelter, and it was made worse by the wounded and those that slowed us down. Our choices were either the four or five day trip to the Temple, and... other things that are near it, the equally long and more dangerous trip through D.C. to Rivet City or the shorter one to Bigtown. I had not even heard of the place, but Stevie-" Cornelu noticed that Simms's voice hardened, "assured me that it was nearby and they could provide us shelter until we got back on our feet. In hindsight I'm not sure I made the right choice. Caleb, when did it happen?"

"I was out trying to find the Lincoln Memorial and when I returned they were all dead. I do not know when it happened exactly."

A voice spoke up from the back of the group of refugees. "I do. I saw it."

It was Zoiks. She looked uncomfortable in the center of attention, but she continued, "It was... three days before the explosion, I think. It happened just after the sun went down. The slavers got in the building, and they appeared to talk for a second. Then they opened fire. After they left I looked inside, but-" She shuddered. After a few moments she recovered and asked, "Sam, when did I meet you? It was the night before that."

"Ha, 'meet.' I think the proper term is 'enslaved.'" There was no hostility behind it, only dry humor, but Zoiks appeared ashamed anyway. Sam looked up and furrowed his brows in concentration, trying to remember. Cornelu thought it was hilarious on the face of a man who was supposed to be a hardass ex-raider mercenary who used to trade slaves on the side. His image was completely gone, and he did not seem to care. "Yeah, the explosion happened the second night after we 'met,' so that would be three days."

"You made good time then. So then even if we had tried for the Temple we could not have made it in time to help." Simms said. Then he looked around the plateau and asked, "Caleb, are you the only one here?"

"Yes."

Cornelu found that ridiculous and asked, "How did you manage that? You can't possibly hold this place by yourself."

"I know. Haven't had to try yet, either. I just got here a few days ago. The raider gang had a feud over who should lead and came close to wiping themselves out. I finished what they started. Since then I have been cleaning her up. They made a mess of the Station there," he pointed to the building, where, sure enough, the pre-war designation 'W-K-M-L Broadcast Station' was painted on the front wall and raider murals partially obscured it. "It's even worse inside, where they lived. That's just superficial, but it reeks on the inside. I've been trying to get all that sorted out. Really, I just saw the beauty in this place and decided to defend it, keep it safe, and even restore it where I could."

"That is an impressive goal. It seems like maybe you could use some help, though," Simms said.

The freed slave smiled at what he was implying. With a chuckle Caleb said, "Simms, there is no need to be subtle. For all you did for the Temple, I would be happy to share this place with you and your people. Like your friend says, I could not possibly defend her on my own, anyway. Go ahead, take a look around."

The group dispersed, heading to different parts of their new home. Some went to look at the radio towers. Others, like Simms, Harden, Sam and Stevie, started patrolling the cliffs in all directions. They peered over the edges for places where it might be possible to climb up. A group made for the stone building and Cornelu decided to follow them.

Inside the door he was assailed by a mix of several pungent smells. The raiders had indeed made a mess of the place. It was clear where Caleb had attempted to clean, but most of the single-room stone structure was trashed. To the right was a maintenance locker against the wall and two generators in the middle of the floor. Between the fusion power generators the previous inhabitants had created a crude and unsanitary toilet. On the left side of the rectangular room were a few desks and filling cabinets along the front and back walls. Past those was a suite of electronics that looked like they had something to do with the radio towers outside, which made sense. Mats, quite similar to the ones the refugees -no, they were not refugees anymore- the _people _carried with them, were strewn about everywhere and smelled of spilled alcohol and bodily fluids permeated the air.

Worst of all, a few meaty bits of something were hanging from the ceiling. They might have been human, but no one could tell. Gob took those away and burned them.

With a sense of resignation they started cleaning everything out. The sleeping mats were removed and draped over the cliffs farthest from the Station so that the infestations they contained would not spread. The spade that Simms had used to dig the graves outside of Arefu's ruins had been brought along, and it was used to scrape the raider's toilet clean as best as it could. Zoiks found a box of abraxo cleaner in the maintenance locker and they used it and a bit of irradiated water to try to sanitize the floor and eliminate the lingering smell.

Cornelu took a break an hour after the work started and walked outside. His hunger, the one that had nothing to do with food, had not receded. He wondered if it would ever go away. His headache was feeling better now that the endless motion of the march was over.

Still almost no one was talking to him. While working, Perez, who was serene and not at all discriminating for anything, was the only person he had been able to get to respond, and then Cornelu had realized he did not have anything to talk about. It was depressing. He returned to the work again just to do something. He noticed that when he entered again that the Station smelled more of abraxo than piss and shit, which made him feel a little better. He was accomplishing something.

A few minutes later Gob looked up from his work and said, "You know, that radio stuff reminds me of Three Dog."

"Who's Three Dog?" Cornelu asked.

The ghouls seemed to debate with himself for a moment. He probably was considering if he should talk to the junkie that everyone else was giving the cold shoulder. Sympathy won out, and he answered, "Three Dog is the guy that talks on Galaxy News Radio. He talks about the 'good fight' and things like that, and he plays good music. I wish we could get that stuff over there to work so we could listen to him."

"I have a radio." Jumping on a chance to improve his standing in the group, Cornelu turned some nobs on the Vault Pip-Boy attached to his arm and found that he was picking up two frequencies, the Enclave Radio and Galaxy News Radio. He had never noticed because he had never thought to check. It was the Wasteland, who would have thought there were working radio stations?

He flipped over to the suggested station and maxed the volume. A song was just ending.

_"-st want to start... a flame in your heaaaaaart!"_

_"Hello Wasteland! It is I, Three Dog. Jockey of discs and teller of truths. __As I've been saying the last few days, for those of you who missed the nuclear explosion, the bomb at the center of the town of Megaton has been detonated. No one knows if it was intentional or a fluke. Evidence of survivors has been found, in the form of dead raiders and bullet casings around the ruins, but no one has yet heard from the displaced ____former_ Megaton residents. It is not clear where they went or if they managed to weather the raider attacks. Hopefully we hear from them soon.  


_"Also in the news: __Not too long ago, I reported that a cat had recently left Vault 101. His name was James, good guy. Turns out, it gets better! I've got a new report here that said someone else had just climbed out of that hole. What the hell is going on down there? Revolution? Vacation? Somebody fart? Your guess is as good as mine kids._  


_"Now for a super important public service announcement. Don't feed the Yao Guai, that is all. You're listening to Galaxy News Radio! Bringing you the truth, no matter how bad it hurts... And now, some music."_

Another song started to play. Cornelu did not hear it. His heart was in his throat. James. From Vault 101. His father. Alive, and there was a clue where he had been, and maybe where he was going.

"Holy shit."

And how did this 'Three Dog' know that he had left the Vault too? He had taken precautions to hide it after meeting with the Megaton survivors. Had someone seen him before then?

Yes. Someone had. Someone had bought his Vault jumpsuit. Because they 'knew someone who would be interested in it.' Someone who would want proof that a second person had come from the Vault before spouting it on their radio.

Stevie.

"Holy _shit!_"

* * *

Simms was finally a bit relaxed. The Super Duper Mart had been a welcome rest, but it was too close to the ruins to have stayed in. Bigtown had been a pathetic excuse for a town at all. Arefu had been close to what they needed, but even before the attack he had been wary of the idea of settling there. Here, it was a completely fresh start. They had a solid foundation to build on, both literally and figuratively, and they truly had a chance to carve out a life at the top of this hill.

They were back on their feet. That meant there was a painful conversation to be had with Stevie. A similar one was required with Cornelu, because a junkie this early on could cripple them.

There was work to be done.

* * *

AN/ I just posted a stand-up comedy video to Youtube, so you should go watch it. Search the terms "Ryan Smith go for the jugular" and I should be the first on the list.


	28. 4: Ch 7: Another Brick In The Wall 1

Chapter 7: "Another Brick in the Wall Part 1" by Pink Floyd

Stevie expected it. The group was secure here. They had a wall. He was not needed for physical protection, and he was a liability now. A dangerous loner who might erode Lucas's authority. So as he sat on top of the stone fortification, legs hanging off as he kept watch, he prepared himself for it. No matter what happened, he would stay calm as Simms accused him and slandered him, and then he would leave.

He made that resolution because he did not know what this new man was capable of. No longer Lucas, peaceable sheriff who did what was necessary, he was _Simms_ now. It felt like there should be a designation before it, _Captain_ or _Sergent_. He went farther than just physical protection, he was taking steps to become more powerful, to solidify his authority. No one was allowed to have a different opinion? No one was allowed to do as he or she wished? This was a dictatorship now? Stevie had seen his share of those. He would _not_ be subjected to that again.

What Stevie did not expect to confront was an angry Cornelu. He emerged from the building and jumped down from the high stone stoop in front of the door to the ground, his newly issued hunting rifle in hand.

"Steve!" he heard the young man yell. The aged Wastelander rose and turned to the approaching Vault Boy. "You told!"

"Told what?"

"You told some asshole on the radio that I came from the Vault!"

He was obviously enraged beyond rational thought by something, and Stevie suspected this was the only direction that he could pursue at the time. He was venting.

"Really? Did Three Dog say, 'Hey everyone, Cornelu, a kid who prefers Enclave armor and jet, currently traveling with the Megaton refugees, popped his head out of a Vault a few weeks ago?'"

Cornelu stopped and thought. "No."

"No. Because he can't possibly know any of that, they are what you would call '_recent developments_.' But I did tell him that I had met someone who had just emerged from Vault 101, and that I wanted some caps in exchange for the information. Three Dog and I have a very good working relationship. When interesting things happened and I see them, I report them for money. Just another of my many occupations. I did not describe you, name you, say where I had met you or where you might have been going. I even asked him to delay airing the story so you had a chance to put some distance between yourself and the Vault. Anything that might have put you in harm's way was omitted."

The young man looked at him suspiciously and asked, "Then why did you want my Vault jumpsuit?"

"I told you why when I bought it. I knew someone who paid a hefty price for it because she likes that kind of stuff."

"Who?"

"Moria Brown," Stevie replied immediately.

A small crowd had gathered by then, and a chill fell over it at Stevie's words. The news that Moria was turning into a ghoul had spread quickly since Gob discovered it. It was a sad thing that the energetic, yet eccentric, former shop owner was going to be subjected to such a fate.

Cornelu had no response, but whatever had prompted the sudden rage was not extinguished. After a few stammered words he yelled, "My dad talked to Three Dog and you didn't tell me!"

Although it was not quite the bombshell he made it out to be, it was somewhat shocking that Cornelu's dad was on the news. Stevie had not heard of the other Vault Dweller that had emerged from 101. If he had, it would have come to mind when he heard that Cornelu was looking for his father.

"Well, I didn't know. I'm... sorry?" Stevie said uncertainly. With the source of Cornelu's mindset revealed it let him feel a little empathy and he let his defensiveness fall away, but he was not sure what he could say or do to help. It was a strange situation.

* * *

With the climax of the argument the people lost interest. Cornelu noticed. None of them cared about him. He was just a junkie to them. So what if he had taken them in at the Super Duper Mart? So what if he had kept them fed with his food and with Box, which carried it all for them? So what if he had helped arm them, defended them, built a fucking sentrybot for them? No one here cared.

All of his despair compiled on top of itself, each item another brick in the wall between him and the others. He was not cared for here. He was not cared for by his father, who had taken off without him. He had not been cared for by Amata. He had gone and gotten himself addicted to jet. All of the bullshit he had put up with in the Vault classroom, learning history an all that shit, it was useless out here in the Wasteland.

He had not looked for his father after he left the Vault.

Every good thing he had done was forgotten, and the mistakes and failures of his life were laid out for all to see. He realized he was still standing in front of Stevie. A minute or so must have passed now, while he was lost in thought. The crowd was gone.

Then someone approached. Simms, the sheriff. The big man. The one who had cast the image of a useless junkie on him.

It was sudden. The urge came over Cornelu and he acted on it without any thought. He brought his hunting rifle to bear, stock on his right shoulder. He noticed an abrupt movement from his target but did not stop.

Stevie tackled him at the same moment that he heard the loud crack of gunfire. But it was not from the hunting rifle he held, the index finger on his right hand was not even on the trigger yet.

For a few seconds everything was a tangled mess of limbs, his and Stevie's. Then he was pulled up by his collar and the rifle was knocked out of his grip. Simms held him up with his left hand and the smoking barrel of a revolver was pointed at his face. His eyes slowly focused past the tip of the gun to the dark, bearded face of the sheriff and he saw his death written very clearly in the expression on it.

Cornelu surprised himself then. He took stock of his body and realized that he was glaring right back. His face was not contorted in fear, he was not begging, he had not pissed himself. With nothing left to lose and everything inside him turned to hate, he stared death in the face. And he didn't flinch.

"Simms! Don't do it!" It was Stevie. He held his left shoulder, where a bloody hole was punched through the back plate of his armor. "You know he isn't thinking straight. He just got news of his father! He took it out on me for a second as well, though it wasn't so extreme. He just needs time to calm down."

Cornelu interjected, "No. I tried to kill you because I hate you. I took you in, I helped you, I defended you from raiders, and you repay me by slandering me? By turning everyone against me? By taking my gun, ruining my armor, using the Box and the robot that I made, and ignoring the person who made them? It was a sudden thing, an urge that came upon me. I didn't plan it. But I would do it again, because you deserve it, you arrogant, thieving, power-loving fuck."

Simms moved so fast that Cornelu could barely catch what happened. He spun the heavy revolver on his finger, formed a fist around the handle, cocked his arm and then Cornelu saw only blackness.

* * *

Because of her augmented hearing, Zoiks heard the radio broadcast that caught everyone else's attention, but did not pay attention. Then the argument outside, which was likewise ignored. She and Perez were talking and she found that he had a very deep, intelligent way of thinking. He had the ability to see causes in things. It was how his mind worked, and she found it fascinating. They got into really interesting topics, like what the building blocks of civilization are and how the Wasteland might be restored again, and the conversation was positively engrossing.

Then she heard the gunshot. Everyone did. Outside Stevie yelled something. They jumped up and ran to the door of the broadcast station. Zoiks was out in time to see Simms pull a handgun out of Cornelu's face, twirl it and knock him out cold with a fist wrapped around the handle.

"I came over to say that because we are now safe and secure, we no longer need your help, Stevie. You are free to return to your life as a Wastelander." His tone made it clear that it was much, much more than a suggestion. "However, it seems Cornelu here has got it into his head that I have shamed him and abused the services he has provided. He made to attack me for it. Is that what you witnessed, Stevie?"

"Yes, but you left out the part where he just learned of his father's whereabouts and that you _did_ abuse his services," the old man sneered. "Oh, and you shot me."

"Cornelu is banned from this settlement from now on. We will not rob him, everything that was his will be returned. Get all of the food out of the handcart. Harden, your rifle?" He was still holding the limp form with his left hand. He held out his right hand for the gun. Harden gave up the painted assault rifle without protest.

The sheriff carried the two, Cornelu and the gun, down the stairs to the parking lot and set them next to the handcart. The ramshackle vehicle was quickly emptied of the food and water, but the black armor, the missiles Stevie had collected from the raiders at Arefu and the powerless computer Cornelu had placed at the bottom of the handcart long ago all remained.

Then he returned back up the stairs without a word.

* * *

Perez was unsettled by the violence within the group. He politely declined an awkward offer from Zoiks to continue their conversation and headed for Simms. The sheriff was standing out in the open watching the exiles disappear into the distance. People were giving the sheriff a wide berth so Perez did not worry about being overheard.

"Do you want to talk, Simms?"

There was no response.

"Well I think there are some things that need to be said. The others are questioning whether that was too harsh. They are wondering if maybe Cornelu's sudden attack... Well, maybe you were not thinking clearly at the time.

"Now, I'm not saying anything either way, who am I to judge another? I just thought that you should know the group's general attitude. And, depending on your own thoughts on the matter, it might be helpful to be reminded that humans are imperfect creatures. We make mistakes. If you did or didn't, that is not anyone's call but your own. But maybe you can take comfort in the fact that no one is perfect."

It was just starting to get dark. The sun was a foot above the horizon and already heavily filtered trough the Wasteland haze. After a few moments of silence Simms turned to him and said, "You have wisdom beyond your years, Perez, and you know how to say the things that people will listen to, even when they don't want to hear it. That is quite a gift.

"Perez, I'm going to tell you something. It is someone's secret. I'm telling you because I feel like I need to justify myself a little and you are the only person on this rock that I know can be trusted with it." He turned away again, then continued.

"Stevie was once an Enclave soldier. He always hated being used as a toll, an instrument of death. He once described it to me like, 'being a puppet, your bullets like the rain, cutting down the just and unjust alike.' So one day, when his superior ordered him to kill some more innocent Wastelanders, he turned and said, 'You are a sick fuck, _Sir_,' and shot the man in the face.

"A few days ago I condemned him for leaving the group when there was a chance of a raider attack. I had ordered him to stay, but he left anyway. I was right, we did need him in the fight and if we had been more consolidated we might not have had so many dead and wounded. For disobeying I informed him that once the group was back on its feet he would not be welcome to join us. He had to leave.

"His response was to say, 'Yes S_ir_,' and walk away. Perez, I have been in fights and, recently, even all-out battles. But in that moment I was truly scared. Of him, and of the implications of what he said. Am I turning into a dictator? In my ordering and controlling for the survival of the group, am I oppressing them as well?

"And most importantly, does it even matter? Because as I told Stevie, 'If that is what it takes, then I would gladly.' Out here in the Wasteland physical security is the top priority. I will do whatever it takes to keep this group protected. If they don't like the sacrifices required, then can take it up with the raiders and the... deathclaws that I protect them from."

It was very sudden. Simm's voice became hard and fell to an even lower whisper. He removed the painted assault rifle from his back and fired out over the lip of the wall. A horrific, blood-curdling scream ripped through the dusk. Perez grabbed for his shotgun and followed the sheriff's gaze just as he heard the rhythmic _thud thud_ _thud thud_ of giant feet sprinting towards them.

"Sam! Need some help here!" Simms called out.

The ten-foot-tall demonic _thing_ made a leap and slammed into the stone beneath them. Its hands and grotesque, disproportionately large claws clung to the top of their protective wall, and it started to pull itself up.

Perez put three rounds from his shotgun into one of the oversized paws to try and loosen its grip. Another nightmarish shriek of anger was the only result. The creature pulled its head over the lip of the wall to expose a feral snarl. Two horns extended down to the sides of its face and its gaping mouth bared irregular pointed fangs. The leathery, tan skin was pockmarked with bullet holes, some old, most fresh from Simms's barrage. More popped into existence in the half second it took Perez to aim his shotgun at the devilish mug.

More fire opened up from behind them, the rattle of automatic rifles and the distinctive pop of Sam's precise sniper rifle. Before the beast could get a firm grip with its legs its already injured paw lost the traction it had. Still the deathclaw did not fall, holding on with only one arm.

Caleb ran past Perez and the sheriff. The former slave brought the metal head of his sledgehammer down on the remaining claw. It would take the man a second to raise and swing the heavy weapon again so Simms, without letting go of the trigger on his chinese assault rifle, jumped into the air and stomped firmly with both feet on the limb. It let go and fell twenty feet to the ground, tripping the sheriff in the process. He landed perilously close to the lip of the wall, but did not fall off.

Peering over the edge of the wall they saw it was not dead. The reptilian abomination rose to its feet and moved swiftly towards the stairs. Perez followed along the top of the wall, firing away. It scaled the two dozen steps in seconds and the torrent opened up again, at least five or six automatic weapons unloading as fast as possible. The puffs of dust, dirt, flesh and blood that came from the deathclaw's body indicated it was not being affected much.

With the _crack_ of Sam's scoped rifle the beast finally went down. One of its three-inch wide eyes exploded and it fell, thrashing. Perez ran forward and polished off the twelve shell round drum magazine of his combat shotgun into the hole in its face. Caleb joined with his hammer, then Simms with his gun. It stopped frantically twitching.

Breathing heavily Caleb said, "I forgot to mention, at night deathclaws sometimes roam around here. If you stay quiet and don't attract them they won't bother us. That's the first time one has attacked."

"Caleb, you said you know how to cut stone? You were a mason?" Simms had a wild look.

"Yes."

"Good. People! It looks like this wall is not quite big enough to ensure our safety. Rest up tonight. Tomorrow we start building!"


	29. 4: Ch 8: Another Brick In The Wall 2

Chapter 8: "Another Brick in the Wall Part 2" by Pink Floyd

Cornelu woke from the fist-induced coma. He found himself in a pitch-black lit room of unknown size and something else was in it with him. In the act of moving his head he made a small noise. He froze, hoping it had not heard him.

It had. "Cornelu? You awake?" It was Stevie, who was barely audible.

"Yes. Why are we sitting in the dark?" he asked, relieved.

"Because we don't want to attract anything. Don't talk so loud. What do you remember last?"

He concentrated. There was anger, but he could not remember at what.

Then it all came flooding back. His father was alive and had talked to a guy on the radio. _He, _Cornelu, had been spoken of, but not by name. Stevie had mentioned his existence to the radio guy.

The anger. A raging hate, mixed with betrayal and abandonment, had overwhelmed him when he found out. His father had left him to rot in the Vault. Left him to be attacked by the Overseer, and shunned by Amata. That was the underlying source of all his discomfort, and had lead to lashing out ineffectually at Stevie, and with more consequences at Simms.

Now it felt cold. A dispassionate hate that had been tempered and cooled by loss and a little bit of time passing. Cornelu had tried to do nothing but help and heal since he left the Vault, killing only when forced and taking mercy when possible. He had left Sam alive, and the raider had changed for the better. All he had received for it was an addiction that still gnawed at his chest and a boot to the curb from the people he had tried to assist.

But tempered as it was, the anger remained. With it was a new sense of hardness, an unyielding feeling. Cast aside by his father, by the Vault, by the refugees he had fallen in with, he had nothing else to lose. He was separated from anything he had ever loved, admired or wanted by a wall of betrayal.

That changed him. Now he had looked death in the eye and dared it to take him, and he had been passed over.

The only thing he wanted now was a reckoning from the man who had started it. Finally, he answered Stevie's question.

"I remember that my father is a fucking asshole, and that I have a lead on where he might be."

"Shhh! Quiet! You're going to get us killed."

"Where are we?" he asked, modulating his voice.

In the quietest whisper possible Stevie answered, "In a tiny underground chamber just under Simms and the others. The tyrannical dick decided to kick us out right before dark. These hills north of the Potomac are incredibility dangerous, especially at night, so I looped around out of sight of the others so we could hide here until morning. We made it just in time, I heard a deathclaw shrieking just before we got inside. To be safe, I turned off the lights as well so nothing can possibly attract attention to us."

"Wait, what? Explain that again."

"The Broadcast Station that the other refugees have taken up residence in just so happens to be directly on top of a small cistern, which I use as a safe haven from time to time. We can rest here for the night and be on our way in the morning, and Simms will never know, but only if we stay quiet. Both so we don't alert creatures that might be outside, like deathclaws, and so we don't let the others above us know we are here. The ceiling of this room and the floor that you cleaned earlier are only separated by a few feet of stone, which for some reason against all logic transmits sound rather well. If you listen you can hear people's footsteps and talking from above."

Cornelu thought about this all for a second. "So let me get this straight. Sheriff Shithead abandoned us to the Wasteland in the middle of the night, and we are now taking shelter from it... right under his nose."

Even in the pitch black Cornelu could tell Stevie smiled at that. "Yes."

A few moments of silence passed between them before a thought struck the boy from the Vault.

"So, do you have a lot of these safehouses around the Wasteland?"

"My travels sometimes take me to dangerous places. These hills, home to larger populations of deathclaws and yao guai than the areas closer to the D.C. ruins, are some of them. The only way to survive around these parts is to find shelter at night. Unless you have a group of seven or eight guns to keep constant watch and have the firepower on hand to take down a deathclaw this is the only way to survive. Hidden, with some spare supplies and a few odds and ends stashed in them, these little holes in the ground allow me to go almost anywhere on my own."

"So... that would be a yes, then. You do have more of these."

The old man chuckled and said, "Shut up and go to sleep."

* * *

Stevie woke at the faint sounds of movement from above. If Simms could be up, then goddammit he could be up. He quickly took stock of himself, noting that the spot where the Sheriff had shot him the night before was still quite sore despite the stimpack he had used on it. Those .44 rounds pack a hell of a punch. There were probably pieces of his armor imbedded that he had missed, being unable to see the wound on his back. It was something he would have to have a doctor look at next time he had a chance, and he intended to have one who was not addicted to jet so that ruled out his current follower.

About said follower, Stevie reached over and put a hand to Cornelu's mouth before shaking him awake.

"Shhhh. It's Stevie. Remember to keep silent. We have to go."

They climbed up a ladder and cautiously emerged from the circular cistern, waiting a few moments to watch for movement. It was secluded in a crevice in the natural cliff wall. The sentrybot sat almost on top of them. He had deactivated it the previous night so it did not attract attention, but its bulk blocked the view out.

He motioned to the robot and mouthed 'turn it on.' Cornelu did silently, the fidgeted with it for a few moments and they set off away from Simms and the other settlers without being noticed.

They headed south, keeping low, staying near cover and never putting away their guns. They held them ready, prepared to raise and use them at a moment's notice. Cornelu followed effectively. The sentrybot-handcart could not hug walls and vanish into ravines like they could, or at least Stevie could, but surprisingly whatever Cornelu had done to it made the machine make much less noise than before so they managed to keep a low profile.

For Stevie it felt good to move fast and silent again. The refugees had numbers and firepower on their side, but a group that large was incapable of stealth. He, Cornelu and the sentrybot were unobtrusive enough that they were usually still unnoticed by the time Stevie's sharp senses spotted or heard an enemy. Then they would go around. It was efficient.

They happened upon a raider camp that had sprung up since the last time Stevie had been through the area. The trio came up out of a low lying area and it appeared to their right before they could avoid being seen. He neatly moved through the rabble, downing four crazed men and women almost without effort, his armor absorbing any blows that by chance managed to strike him. Cornelu fired with his own assault rifle, but missed more often than not. The metal pack brahmin turned slowly to join them, but by the time it could pull around all the enemies were dead. That was their only encounter.

By nightfall the small group was out of the dangerous foothills, though still a distance from the river. They were moving at more than twice the speed that the group could achieve.

With no other option they camped out in the open Wasteland. A large rock provided some cover. They divided the night into three shifts. Cornelu took the first, the second they relied solely on the sleepless robot and the third Stevie woke himself to keep watch.

He could tell that the constant physical exertion was wearing on Cornelu. His endurance was not up to it. So the next day they slowed down to a less demanding pace. Now that they were out of the extremely dangerous areas they could afford it.

The second day went much like the first. When the sun started to go down the young Vault boy asked, "Aren't we going to stop and sleep?"

"No, I have an acquaintance nearby. We can be there soon." They pushed on. An hour later they came upon Northwest Seneca Station, across the river from the ruins of Arefu and entrance to the Family's hideout. They entered the fence gate of the metro station and started down the dim passage to the underground home of a ghoul named Murphy.

Stevie paused then. Shit.

"What's wrong?" Cornelu whispered. He raised his gun, expecting something to attack them.

"Nothing, I just need to think for a second."

Murphy was a ghoul who lived in the abandoned rooms of the metro. For a living he brewed something known as Ultrajet. Stevie collected the ingredients of the concoction for him when he came across them in his travels because the pay was extremely good, and that was the extent of their relationship. When the rescue mission for Lucy's brother had passed through on their way to the Family, Murphy had offered information but not assistance. When Stevie had returned leaking vital body fluids from cuts and bullet-shaped holes Murphy had offered only his sympathies, not his stimpacks.

Now Stevie was leading a known jet addict to this person. He had overlooked that detail in the pursuit of a place to sleep in safety.

"Cornelu, we need to talk."

Stevie was abruptly reminded that the man, not boy, behind him had recently gone through some major, possibly life-changing events. He had gone through withdrawals. He had discovered that his father was at least probably alive. He had attempted to shoot Simms. All of this was made very clear to him when Cornelu replied coldly, "About _what?"_

"You've seen a little of how I work. How I survive and even prosper in this desolate, destroyed world. I even manage it alone. I have taken the worst this fucked up world can throw at me single-handedly for three decades now. Would you like me to show you how?"

"Conditionally. Why are you offering?"

"Because of what you said to Simms after you tried to kill him."

"...What do you want in return?"

"Well, hopefully your help in staying alive for a few more decades. The situations that a person can find themselves in while wandering the Wasteland are more likely to finish me off than ever before. I'm fifty six, I just can't shrug off wounds and lift cars and crazy things like that anymore. But overall I want you to be able to handle yourself because I think you understand what is best for the people of the Wasteland. I believe that major societies, governments, leaders; they are all evil. They will be corrupted and used as a means of personal gain for a few. They are what led to the Great War. They created this hellish world we live in. They should be opposed in every possible way. From what you said to Simms, I suspect you might understand this. Do you?"

Cornelu considered for a while, which confirmed the solid head Stevie hoped he had on his shoulders. That was the deciding factor. Raiders thought the same way, the differences were intelligence and a macro view of the world instead of a blind anarchistic savagery. Stevie had an informed, self-aware anarchistic savagery instead. It was a fine line, but it made the difference between a complete psychopath and a person who sometimes did nasty, horrible things for a greater good.

The kid answered perfectly, "The Vault was supposed to be a place where humanity survived after the War. Even in a perfect place like that the Overseer became an Overlord instead, ordering around the security forces and eventually killing people. Out here it's just as bad. People do the same thing. You are right. When people get together, they just hurt each other."

"That is what I want from this deal. If I die, I want someone else to know that. Do you want me to teach you how to master this Wasteland?"

"Yes."

Stevie smiled. "First, an important thing to have is willpower. Sometimes only a stubborn disposition will get you through a challenge. Usually things like that are not gunfights or battles, but resisting tempting things. Say you stop by a saloon and a pretty young girl named Nova makes a pass at you, then reveals that the good time you thought you were about to get is going to cost you fifty caps. Things like that. For your first test…."

* * *

Once again time seemed to be passing in a blur. Gob spent his days breaking stone under Caleb's instruction or pulling in scrap for the palisade Simms was building around the perimeter of the Island. That is what everyone had taken to calling their new home. The Island, because it was a solitary, solid place in a sea of chaos and enemies.

Of course, things were happening. They just never affected Gob's mind-numbing routine work. He never got to be there for any of the important events, instead he got secondhand news from the others.

He heard that Moria had emerged from her coma, but her condition was still uncertain so she stayed in the Station. Because of the limited space in the stone building Gob and a few others slept in a hastily constructed shack built against the side of it farthest from the stairs. It was planned to be the new Common House, but so far it was just a shanty.

Soon after the Island was founded Crazy Wolfgang disappeared. Three days later he returned leading Doc Hoff, a fellow trader. Doc specialized in food, water and drugs, and was both one of the most beloved and most unwelcome doctor in the Wasteland. Those who purchased his more addictive merchandise awaited his visits with anticipation. From the expression Gob saw on his face during the trading, Simms disliked the trader and only begrudgingly bought a small fortune's worth of food, water and stimpacks from the man. Of course all of the settlement's money had been pooled to get the necessary supplies, and because of the destitution of the former refugees most of it had at one point been Simms's own caps. But now it was everyone's caps. When the deal was done Crazy left with Doc Hoff.

Though the resupply of essentials was a welcome relief to the gradually dwindling stockpile, the really important part was that the Island was put on the trader's circuit. Every four or five days either Lucky Harith, who dealt in guns and ammo, Crow, who carried clothing and armor, or Doc Hoff would stop by.

The next time Hoff completed the circuit, which took two weeks, he was accompanied by Wolfgang and a few others who wanted to join the settlement. The odd man had decided to quit traveling and had brought his entire inventory from the trading hub of Canterbury Commons so that he could set up shop on the Island.

With the professional merchants around and the new people with all of their stuff, trade really took off. The newcomers were all Wastelanders, mostly lone scavengers and acquaintances of Wolfgang who wanted to take advantage of getting in with a new settlement as it started out. They joined Simms's scavenging parties eagerly, knowing full well the jewels that could be uncovered on such loot trips. They were grateful for the security provided by the walls and the many allied weapons, and because of that they were nothing but cordial to the original refugees. They even expanded the Common House themselves to accommodate their presence.

In the Broadcast Station the power had been turned on. Apparently the generators worked, they had just been shut off. With the dependability of compact pre-war fusion power, they were expected to last longer than anyone on the Island would live. That assured power source was invaluable.

The power led to the discovery that the radio equipment still worked, despite a few bullet holes and loose wires caused by the raiders that had occupied the building previously. With the machines up and running they heard updates from Three Dog and by the tenth day after they arrived he started mentioning them. He announced that there was a new settlement on the trader circuit called 'the Island,' but he did not say where it was or who populated it.

The most recent news had caused a minor panic in everyone because the charismatic radio man said that a dozen or so Talon Company had amassed and that they 'may be looking for some refugees.' No one was sure if that meant them or not, but it seemed to be the general sentiment. The wall's progress helped alleviate the fearful mood, thought, and that made Gob feel a sense of achievement.

Not only could the Islanders listen to GNR whenever they wanted, but they had they ability to broadcast messages. Simms planned to use it to attract more Wastelanders and settlers from other places like Rivet City once the wall was complete and they cold fend off any unwelcome visitors the advertisements might bring.

The main wall came along quickly. Caleb was very good at managing several people at once. With improvised pickaxes and chisels Gob and the other workers carved out fifty uniform blocks. They only carved out of the stone cliffs in places where they would be the easiest to scale, so they created building materials and also made the natural defenses more sheer and difficult to climb. The blocks were not finely cut like the precise pre-war wall, but they were sturdy and they fit together like bricks.

Then the work was to move the blocks up the stairs to the lip of the wall. Each one took two people an hour to carry. The goal was eventually to have four feet of solid cover at the top of the already impressive twenty foot wall, which would put it out of reach of all but the largest deathclaws and also provide solid cover from gunfire. The main wall ended thirty feet to either side of the stairs, and there a tin and scrap palisade started, much like the rusty one that had encircled Megaton. It ringed the cliff tops to add a bit of protection from bullets and to deter attempts to climb the natural defenses.

During the work they had a few small raider attacks and even the occasional deathclaw scare. The raiders were dealt with easily and construction continued. The deathclaws were quickly spotted each time by Sam, who had made himself a sniper's nest halfway up the center radio tower, and when the monsters showed up the stone workers and scavenging parties retreated to the safety of the Island. Most of the time they passed by, giving the large and growing human population a large berth.

Sometimes they did not, which was why the number of cleaned deathclaw skulls adorning Sam's nest had grown from one to three. Each had a neat circular hole or two somewhere along the off-white surface of the bone. Unwaveringly, the killing shot always came from the ex-raider's sniper rifle. Unfortunately the giant mutated lizards thrashed around quite a lot even after Sam's bullet through the brain had ensured their eventual death, which had caused some injuries. Gob liked the guy, and he was not the only one. The group's general feeling for the man had changed from distrust when he had first arrived, to acceptance after the losses and solidarity experienced at Arefu, to comfort that his keen eye was keeping watch.

Gob worked hard and the only physical things he received for his trouble were enough food and water to live on and a place to sleep. In fact, with the others in the Common House he got the worst place to sleep short of freezing to death out in the open at night. But he was not a slave, like he had been in all but name before the explosion. Now he could take breaks when he wanted or needed them. Now he did not have to constantly fear a beating. Now he could see the fruits of his labor as the wall slowly went up and everyone became more and more relaxed. He was even accepted to a degree, having done his part in the battle of Arefu. That was better than almost any other ghoul in the Wasteland had.

The work was numbing, but all in all Gob was content. Happy, even. Comfortable.


	30. 4: Ch 9: Another Brick In The Wall 3

Chapter 9: "Another Brick in the Wall Part 3" by Pink Floyd

From a small knoll to the north of the Island a contingent of thirteen armed and armored Talon Company mercenaries observed the town's construction. After the contract from Mr. Burke was accepted it had taken a few days for the leader of the attack group, Sergent Hoffer, a gritty, weaselly man who along with a select few Talons ranked just under Jabsco himself, to organize an impressive enough team to take on such a large group. Then it was a several day trip to get to the ruins of Arefu where the damn refugees had last been seen. The trail went cold there and they searched manually for a while. Finally they caught a lucky break when it was stated over the radio that a new settlement had just popped up in the trading scene. Who else could it have been but the refugees, trying to start anew?

Following that lead Hoffer coerced the location of the place out of the next trader they came across. It was Crow, who sold armor and clothing. He was always a pushover and his one bodyguard basically shit himself when he was suddenly expected to protect the peaceful merchant from a dozen armed mercs. The Sergent left them alive because the traders tended to get all pissy when you attacked any of them and because his men had better armor anyway, so the loot would not have been worth the backlash.

It took them a two days to reach the 'Island,' as it was being called. By that time the refugees were dug in. The stone wall at the front of the settlement was well under way and even though it was still unfinished it provided considerable protection. The encircling sheets of metal, wood and other debris on top of the cliffs shielded about a third of the town. It was clear the targets planned to stay right where they were.

To complicate things further, the night before they finally found their targets they had heard of themselves on the radio. Three Dog mentioned 'about a dozen Talon Company mercs who may be looking for some refugees.' It had to have been Crow who informed him. The traders were among the many people on Three Dog's payroll as information collectors, and the unique diplomatic immunity that traders had protected them from the dire repercussions most people would be subject to for crossing the Talon Company in such a way. Hoffer put the man on his 'really want to kill' list.

Looking over those he was supposed to kill as opposed to the ones he simply _wanted_ to kill, Sergent Hoffer called off the mission. To hell with Burke and his demands to get this done quickly. Too many things had gone wrong and too much time had been lost already. The targets were prepared, because of that damn D.J. everyone for miles around was alerted of a major Talon presence roaming the wastes and in any event he was going to need more men to take a position like that.

* * *

The one night spent at Murphy's was hell. Cornelu's gnawing hunger for more of the enticing substance that literally surrounded him bothered him constantly. He knew there was some around. Murphy made it, worked on the process of making it and improved it. There had to be a test batch around somewhere. But Stevie made it clear that if he could not pass this test of willpower the grizzled Wastelander would leave his worthless ass behind. The opportunities Stevie offered were not things the Vault boy was willing to give up. He could not control the feeling deep in his chest, but he did have control over himself. So Cornelu forced himself to stop thinking about the drug and fell into an uneasy sleep.

The next morning they left early. Stevie thanked the ghoul and gave him a few caps for letting them sleep on the floor of his workshop. Cornelu was glad to be gone.

Instead of following the Potomac straight to D.C., Stevie led them to the ruins of Arefu. Cornelu knew that the Galaxy News Radio building was in the run-down capital so he asked, "Why are we taking a detour?"

"I believe in positive reinforcement, as well as negative. You did not give in to your addiction last night. I think you deserve a reward."

He was more puzzled than happy. "What reward can you give me that has to be in Arefu?"

"A chance to find the helmet to your armor."

Elation shot through Cornelu. Clad in nothing but a thin animal skin he had felt exposed since he had regained consciousness from the worst of his withdrawals. The remaining armor was impossible to move in for any amount of time without the boost in strength that the power allowed, and it would not turn on without the helmet. If they found it he could be practically invulnerable again.

They swiftly made their way across the river, leaving the sentrybot temporarily behind in the entrance of the Northwest Seneca Metro. Some of the fallen bridge structure had blocked and dammed the river's flow, so the ruins were partially underwater. The two searched, lifting through the rubble and the remains of the metal buildings. It took them an hour but eventually Stevie found the black metal helmet in what had once been Karen's house.

Cornelu saw him pull the item out of a pile of pulverized concrete just above the water line. The old man shot him a smile as the helmet came loose, but suddenly the happiness at the find vanished and he went for his gun. Cornelu immediately ducked down and put his back against a fallen block of roadway. He did not know what had startled Stevie, but the way the man's face went white scared him. They both stayed low and close to cover for a while until they heard voices. There were quite a few of them and after five minutes they faded away. Cornelu saw Stevie risk a glance out and another minute later he rose out of cover and headed back to where they had left the sentrybot. He followed.

"What was that? What did you see?"

"Talon Company. A lot of them."

"They are?"

"Mercenaries. They will take any job that pays well, even if it means killing women and children, and if they see you while they are out then they will shoot you for your stuff. That group was the largest I've ever seen, about a dozen or so. They must be after the other refugees. I guess those raider attacks really were coordinated. It seems someone wants them dead."

"Burke. It has to be him. After the Super-Duper Mart attack I found one of the raider leaders alive. He said, 'you don't know what Burke will unleash' or something."

"Well it's not our problem now. It might be something worth telling Three Dog, but that is the extent of our involvement."

Before they left they happened upon the missile launcher that the raiders had used to weaken Arefu's supports. Cornelu thought that he could use its parts to repair the damaged missile arm of the sentrybot so they brought it along when they returned to the sentrybot-handcart. First Cornelu put on his armor again, removing the heavy metal pieces from where they were stored in the handcart. It felt a little strange after having it off for so long, but also familiar and very reassuring. Nothing puts one's mind at ease like being encased in bulletproof metal. The scraped explosive weapon they had found was put in the handcart for later and they set off for GNR Studio.

It took four days to reach the outskirts of D.C., where they rested for a day in another one of Stevie's bunkers before entering the urban warzone. It consisted of a metro station's small lockable storeroom. There was a sink that poured irradiated water, some food, some ammo and an assortment of anti-radiation medicine. Cornelu did not take particular note of what the room contained because he spent the day repairing the sentrybot's missile launcher arm and arranging what equipment they did not already carry with them. Because utilizing the missiles for the weapon almost emptied the handcart he tied the deactivated computer, which was the only remaining luggage, to the sentrybot's back and left the handcart behind. Cornelu had fallen out of the habit of calling it 'Box,' but he still hated to leave it. However the makeshift metal contraption was slowing the sentrybot down and making it difficult to turn and they needed the military robot to be fully combat ready in the hellish streets of D.C.

Once they were into the city Cornelu learned the best ways to travel through the maze of decrepit buildings, metro tunnels and debris-filled streets. The aged man clearly explained how to hug walls, stay in shadows, avoid plazas and open spaces and overall how to stay unnoticed in the dangerous city. Along with the proper way to slink around the area, when they came across a poster map of D.C. in what had once been a subway station Stevie showed him what underground lines were collapsed, where streets were clear and passable, what areas to avoid and where his five safehouses in the city were located and described the way each was concealed and booby trapped in case they ever found themselves in a bad spot and Cornelu needed a place to find shelter. Knowledge of the back alleys and side roads Stevie used would come with experience, as well.

Because of the higher density of enemies, particularly super mutants but there were also raiders and even mirelurks in areas near the river, it was impossible to avoid conflict as effectively in the capital ruins as it was in the Wasteland. To address this, when they stopped for the night sometimes Stevie would spend that down time coaching Cornelu on how to handle, maintain and use the assault rifle he carried. The Vault boy learned about the parts of a gun, what they did, how they functioned to fire a bullet, why some guns were automatic and how to replace parts that wore out quickly. With his predisposition towards robotics and machinery the repairing aspect was not difficult to master, but firing accurately was more of a struggle. They worked on it.

Every few days when they had a spare moment Cornelu tuned into Galaxy News Radio to see if there was an update on his father. The same announcement he had first heard played again a few times, but there wasn't anything new and eventually it was replaced by other things. The settlement was mentioned as having made itself a stop along the trading route. That was not the group of people he wanted to hear news about so he had turned it off then. Another night he learned that in a place called Rivet City a scientific team had made progress with a joint water purifying/hydroponics project. Three Dog said that it would greatly help reduce the threat of radiation poisoning for those living there. Cornelu didn't know where Rivet City was other than its general direction, but good news lifted his spirits anyway. He also found himself favoring a particular song out of the small selection that Three Dog played, "Happy Times." It was a soothing song in a world where relaxation was a rare luxury.

During their time in the city they ran into three groups of mutants and a raider encampment, and coultless other small fights that were over in seconds. With Stevie's experience, Cornelu's somewhat improved skills and the sentrybot's heavy armaments they were able to handle everything they came across. Thankfully Cornelu had planned ahead when he repaired the robot, because it was programmed to factor in conserving its ammunition and using the appropriate force for each encounter so it did not waste the rare missiles on every radroach or raider they came across.

After each encounter they looted all ammo and valuables, but they only took weapons if they were more powerful than a 10mm pistol and in at least reasonable condition. Things like food and water, which were invariably irradiated, they consumed while they scavenged, used to refill the two day's supply that they usually carried and left the extras. Medicine like stimpacks, rad-away, rad-x and the more recreational drugs were rare and fell under the 'valuable' category because of their trade value. These items were always taken to be used or sold later, though Stevie held the jet just to be safe. All of it was carried in bags on their backs or in the pockets of their armor.

The third night Stevie and Cornelu spent in the city ruins they slept in relative comfort and security in one of Stevie's safe houses. It was through a well hidden doorway behind a pile of rubble, all of which was at the end of a dead-end back alley. The sentrybot barely fit through some of the tight spaces. There were a few booby traps both outside and directly inside and before they entered Stevie checked them to see if anyone had stumbled onto the place since he had last been there.

Once they were in Cornelu saw it was very different from the tiny, empty cistern that they had slept in after Simms kicked them out and the metro storage room just outside the city's limits. Although this place was also sort of underground, covered and concealed as it was in rubble, it consisted of a few intact rooms of a pre-war structure that happened to be hidden because of the way they were buried. At the very back, past a hallway dotted with landmines, there was a final room with a bare mattress in one corner and a shelf with boxes of ammo, pre-war packaged food, two spare med-x syringes, a supply of rad-away and finally a plain brown assault rifle in good condition.

"Holy shit, do you have enough stuff in here?"

"I try to keep the safehouses stocked well enough that if I came in here bleeding, tired, hungry, thirsty and unarmed I could leave fit, resupplied and with a decent chance of surviving. That is the point. I usually don't have someone around to patch me up if I run out of stims, or handing me an extra mag if I run out of ammo, or watch my back for a few hours if I have been on the run from hitmen for three days and desperately need sleep. I have to ration myself carefully and rely on these stashes when the worst happens."

"You didn't have all this at the last two places. They was just, just... holes in the ground."

"_Hidden _holes in the ground. That is the important part. And actually, I did have most of this. There was food, some ammo of various sorts, radiation meds and enough floorspace to sleep on. The first place had a bottle of pure water and a pair of pistols at the end under the table, near where I slept. The second had some grenades, a bolt-action rifle and that sink. Not clean water, but if you are dying of thirst it doesn't matter. You might not have noticed, but the basics were there for if they were needed. I was only missing stims, and if you'll notice I don't have any here either. There just are not enough of those damn needles to leave around. And the bed here, that is a huge luxury, I only have one other safehouse with a mattress."

Cornelu gaped for a second before simply saying, "Wow."

"I will take that as a compliment. If you're carrying anything that might help you if you were an inch from death and you don't need it right now, set it on the shelf. If you are dangerously low on something, see if I have any. Other than that, if you tinker with your robot or listen to the radio, don't do it loudly. I'm going to hit the sack. Feel free to sleep in tomorrow." With that he dropped the bag of supplies he carried next to the bed, rolled out his sleeping mat over the bare mattress, took off the outer layers of his combat armor and went to sleep.

Cornelu followed his lead and rolled out his own mat on the floor, but he could not fall asleep easily. Stevie's revelations were something to ponder over. He turned on his Pip-boy radio absently while he thought things over. While part of the group of refugees the 'safety in numbers' logic had been heavily reinforced. It seemed to be the only way to survive. He certainly would not have lasted long on his own if he had not found the Super-Duper mart and fortified it, giving him an advantage. But here Stevie was, showing him that with some planning, preparation, the right mindset, a little luck and a lot of skill with a firearm a person could get along fine by themselves.

It was the last brick in the wall between him and the world. Aside from Stevie, who was fair, resourceful and intelligent, he hated everyone. Everyone in the world. Now he didn't need any of them either. Not his father, not Amata, not Simms or Zoiks or anyone at all.

As he came to that conclusion a stupid song on the radio, one about a psycho named Pete, ended and Three Dog came on.

_"Hell-looooooo children! It is I, Three Dog, your master of ceremonies! You are listening to Galaxy News Radio, telling you the truth... no matter how bad it hurts._

_B__ad news, kiddos. It seems the settlements of Arefu, Bigtown, Grayditch and the Temple of the Union have all fallen. Greyditch has been silent for a while now, but the other three are recent. Arefu had evidence of a huge fight, and the overpass the place was built on collapsed in the fighting. With Megaton's loss, that makes five towns gone in the last six months. It's not that everyone was killed, although that is certainly possible, but no one knows what happened. Other than the Temple, which we can safely assume was located by slavers, and Megaton, which blew up, the last chapter of these outposts of humanity have gone untold._

_"A strange thing, that, because the majority of the people in these settlements have not been accounted for. You would think we would hear something if survivors were being scattered to the four winds. What the hell is happening? Are people just falling off the face of the Earth? Your guess is as good as mine, kiddos, just be extra careful out there. Things are starting to get weird._

_"This is Galaxy News Radio. Your voice. In. The darkness. Or at least... the radiation."  
_

* * *

Stevie was not in any kind of hurry to get to Three Dog. Traveling alone he had never rushed. Rushing, neglecting to stop for adequate rest, pushing one's endurance too far, all these led to fatigue, which led to mistakes which culminated in death. He had invested an extensive amount of time in the creation and maintenance of his safe houses, he intended to use them. Also, he suspected Cornelu's feelings about his father were more heated than they had to be and if given time he might calm down a little.

Cornelu would hear none of it. The next morning after an hour of being idle he spoke up, "How far away from GNR are we?"

Stevie tended to keep himself busy. He was sitting on the mattress with pieces of his assault rifle laid out before him, checking for wear and condition issues. "Another day's walk. Maybe two."

"Why are we sitting here if it is so close?"

"Because I can't go wading through rivers of blood for days on end without getting tired. I need to rest, recover my strength. You should too, you won't be as young as you are now. Sit down. Relax. Do something mindless and calming. Load some magazines." With that he grabbed three empty clips and a box of loose 5.56 bullets and tossed them at the Vault boy. He grudgingly got to work. That did not stop his impatience for the rest of that day and night, however.

Resupplied with both the materials and rest they needed, the last day-long leg of the journey to the GNR studio was not as stressful and draining as it could have been. They arrived at the heavily guarded building in the center of the D.C. ruins. The Brotherhood of Steel paladins at the studio's door were a routine sight to him, but Cornelu gazed at them in wonder when they came into view. Stevie quickly assured the power-armored men that Cornelu was not an enemy Enclave soldier, regardless of his appearance.

The trader Crow was leaving just as they entered, so Stevie greeted him. As they passed the man said, "Watch yourself out there. I saw a big troop of Talon Company out in the wastes. Make sure you keep a low profile, Stevie." He looked at Cornelu and jokingly added, "You too, Vault boy. Don't go attacking any more sheriffs."

They continued on into the building. Stevie muttered, "It seems your story's out kid. Nothing much that you can do now." Up some stairs and past more Brotherhood members, they finally found Three Dog's place. It was large and one area was cluttered with radio equipment and electronics. There were adjoining rooms and some shelves, but the most important feature of the room at the time was the black man with a white headwrap to hold back his hair sitting in front of a microphone.

Three Dog continued without pause, motioning for them to wait with a finger.

"...about a dozen Talon Company mercs who may be looking for some refugees. Things are dangerous out there people. Be careful.

"This is GNR. Stay tuned."

He quickly pressed a series of buttons and a recording started play. The live feed of the station started playing softly and a man's voice said, _"And now for another exciting adventure of Herbert Daring Dashwod and my stalwart..."_

The radio personality turned to them. "Stevie! Long time no see, eh? Got any interesting news for me this time? And who is you oh-so-poorly-dressed friend? You're the last person I thought I'd see next to someone wearing Enclave armor."

"It's good to see you D- Three Dog. Yes, in fact I do have some gossip, but this young man wants to talk to you first. His name is Cornelu. He crawled out of a Vault a little more than a month ago and he wants to ask you a few things about his father."

Stevie enjoyed the way the D.J.'s eyes lit up. He was a difficult person to surprise and although he probably knew who Cornelu was the sudden meeting had to have made an impression.

"Looking for his dad? I may know some things, but infoma-"

"Stop," Stevie intervened. He had known Three Dog for a very, _very _long time, and he was never inhospitable. The jab about being poorly dressed from him was paramount to a string of the most vile expletives from anyone else, so it betrayed how unsettled and even angry the D.J. was by the fact that someone was wearing Enclave armor in his studio. He could also guile a young woman out of her panties if he was so inclined and it was unfair that he was going to run word circles round the poor boy just because the charismatic man had a prejudice against the armor Cornelu was wearing. On top of that, Cornelu would not take kindly to being manipulated so it was better if all that conflict was avoided. "Don't start trying to make a deal. Consider this a favor to me. I think you owe me several of those."

Three Dog sobered up quickly. At Stevie's insistence he kept things on the level and asked, "Alright, Cornelu. What is it you want to know about your dad?"

"When was he last here?"

"Two weeks ago."

"Why?"

"He was gone for a long time, he wanted someone to show he what's what out here in the Wasteland these days."

"Where was he headed?"

"He asked about one Doctor Li and where she was. I told him Rivet City was the place to find her."

Cornelu tilted his head, the only indication in his armor that he was taking a moment to think, then said, "Thank you Three Dog. That was very helpful. One more question, however. What was the name Stevie almost called you when he greeted you?"

Stevie jumped like he had been shocked. He glanced and Three Dog, but the D.J. smiled, gave him a discreet nod to silently say 'it's okay,' and verbally declared, "You're one perceptive son-of-a-bitch, Vault Boy, I'll give you that."

"Nope, I just have an AI to point things out for me. My question?"

Three Dog held out his hand and answered, "The name's Denton Wolfe Houndland."

Accepting the handshake Cornelu replied, "Uh, I think I get the nickname, but that's only two, uh, 'dogs,' I guess."

"My parent's dog's name was Denton."

"Oh."

* * *

Three Dog admitted to himself, he had judged the kid wrong. It irked him greatly that someone had walked into his studio in Enclave armor, but this Vault boy wasn't that bad. He probably had not meant anything by it, and he had just earned himself the benefit of the doubt.

"Don't go telling people about that, though. A few people know me by Denton, but I can count on one hand the people who know my full name."

"No problem. Why are you telling me, then?"

"Because you walked into my studio with Stevie here."

"That makes me special?"

Another glance passed between him and Stevie. "To be tagging along with Stevie? Yes. It does."

The young man's head turned a little. Three Dog figured the kid was thinking. "Yeah, I guess I can see how it might."

"Good. Not to be abrupt, but now that you have your info, Stevie, what do you have to report to ol' Three Dog? I already know some about you, kid, but this new settlement I'm hearing about sounds like a juicer topic."

Stevie started off with a tale of destruction, loss and fear. First was the Megaton explosion, then the first attacks by raiders, the refuge the survivors took at a fortified Super-Duper mart, the first major battle, the trip to Bigtown and the conflicts with the population there, the trip to Arefu and the second major battle with raiders. After that, all of the remaining refugees had fled north toward a rock outcrop that looked defensible. When they settled there the leader and sheriff from Megaton, Lucas Simms, had kicked the two men in front of him out more or less for insubordination. That sounded like Stevie alright.

Then on the way here the two had seen the group of Talon Company that Crow had mentioned just minutes before. His version of how they had been booted out of the place was similar to the trader's as well. Three Dog loved consensus among his sources. It made him smile.

Stevie explained what he thought the mercenaries were up to and why, mentioning the shady Mr. Burke character and his possible involvement as the mastermind. The Talon probably were heading after the refugees like the raiders had been. It wasn't often, but occasionally Evergreen Mills would hire out a gang for cheap. The problem was getting into the place without getting shot so one could make the deal. Now this Burke had upgraded.

Interestingly enough Stevie did not mention the Island's impressive wall, or the sniper that patrolled it. Crow had gone on about the progress that had been made on what the Island residents planned to one day be an encircling fortification around the entire plateau. They had started before Crow had even left, so the wall could be who knows how high by now. The man named Sam watched over the entire place, and the trader had said his skill with a sniper rifle was a major talking point in the settlement, but Stevie must not have know about those points.

As the old Wastelander talked Three Dog put the pieces together in his head. This was going to make a great announcement. It would take some time to snoop around a little more, maybe wait for Doc Hoff to come in with fresh news, but it would be worth it.

* * *

AN 7/5/12: Remember what I said about every Friday? I didn't factor in college. Sorry about that. I don't have a chapter this week. Haven't even started. But I got my calc homework done! You guys will cheer for that, right?


	31. 5: Ch1: Setting Up Shop

Part 5: Boom Times

Chapter 1: Setting Up Shop

Zoiks was exhausted. Early on in the construction of the Island, Simms had gone around and asked everyone if they were good with machines. Not knowing what she was getting into, Zoiks had forfeited that information, and with it she forfeited all of her free time for a month.

The Island needed a water purifier. Or at least a way to filter and decontaminate water to an acceptable level, as truly pure water was a rare luxury. The supply of relatively clean drinking water the group had when they arrived lasted a while, and carving out a place for themselves on the trade route helped keep the threat of death by dehydration at bay because they could buy what they needed if it became absolutely necessary. However, for long-term sustainability the settlement needed a modest water purifier similar to the one that had kept Megaton's thirst quenched. It was top priority, above even the wall that was being built, and so Simms had put the best brains on it.

The work had gone roughly. Zoiks had not been in peak shape because she found it difficult to sleep in the Station with the others because it was not quiet, even at night. People moved around and had whispered conversations. However, when she tried to find a more secluded place to rest in there was a sudden resurgence of her old nightmares about slavers and, with a new twist on the horrors, the way Cornelu had been treated and cast out. As a result of all this she was constantly tired.

The team who worked on the filter consisted of herself, Walter and recently Moria, once she had woken from her coma. Walter was not impolite, but he was sued to doing things on his own. An old man by anyone's count, he had been the servicing the last water processing plant for thirty years before Megaton's explosion. Moria was strange, and it was made more eerie by the woman's steadily dissolving skin. But here demeanor was in complete contrast with her ghoulification. She shrugged it off as something superficial and gladly dove into work on the filter.

After a month of constant work and collaborating the Island finally had a crude but functional water purifier. The small contraption was in a corner of the Station, the central stone building that housed the generators and radio equipment. River or collected rain water was poured into a funnel and gravity pulled it through the filter mechanism before it reached a pool. The intact basin of a porcelain sink made up the reservoir where doses of Rad-x were added to counter radiation. Attached to a short section of pipe coming from the bottom of the sink was a faucet where everyone could get water that was bearable.

While it was being set up, tested and improved most of the Station had been cleared for their use, with a fair amount of floor space set aside for them to work and direct access to the generators if they needed electricity for something. Under Simms's direction those who decided to sleep in the Station were kept to the half of the building near the unused radio equipment so no one touched the filter until it was finished. This sleeping section emptied out gradually because people started moving into the slightly less crowded and ever-expanding Common House. Some of the stone workers had even taken to pulling extra shifts after their work on the wall was done to use the stone for building domiciles for themselves. Mirroring the Common House's approach, a handful of tiny stone buildings leaned against the sides of the Station that had not already been claimed. There had even been talk of buying a few brahmin from the traders and fencing off a small area for them to make a farm.

This affected Zoiks because as the sleeping quarters emptied she found it easier and easier to fall asleep, and as long as there were people around he dreams did not come back. But it also affected her during the day. People seemed to have gotten used to the Station being a place where she, Walter and Moria worked on things that helped the group as a whole. Even after the filter was complete, people tended to stay out of their half of the room. A few days went by where the three of them made small improvements and basically tinkered with the finished filter, but otherwise they had nothing to do.

Zoiks had long ago taken her belongings out of her wagon and brought them into the Station to make herself at home. Now she noted how little there was. Her packaged and stored pre-war food had all been commandeered by Simms, same as everyone else's, and she had lost most of her guns in the traveling and fighting before the Island. Even the wagon itself finally came apart, with the bottom of the hold falling out from rust only a few days after they stopped marching. Really the only things she had left were the shotgun on her back, the memory chips she had taken from the ruins of Dr. Ivanovitch's Lab so long ago and the mutfruit plant she had bought in the time before she had met Sam, Cornelu and the refugees.

Yet another idle day had gone by and the sun was setting, but since she had gone through her things an idea had been stirring in her head. Thinking of the brahmin pen the others had been talking about building, it all came together. The mutfruit plant. It was radioactive, so a rad-x needed to be taken when eating the fruit. What if it could be purified, like the water had been? Then it could be planted and people could eat it safely like a real pre-war farm, instead of just a brahmin ranch. Such a project would need some advanced instruments, but if Ivanovitch had been able to find or make all the equipment required for a cyborg, Zoiks could do it this. She would just need some help.

With her idea in mind she was about to set out to find Simms and try to convince him that this was something essential, when suddenly he burst into the room.

"Zoiks! Walter! I have a new project for you. One of the salvage teams just came across a raider camp. No one was killed, but they found some machines and sciency-stuff, including a laser turret. Fix it or, if that's not possible, strip it for parts and build something similar out of it, but I want that weapon working pronto! We need firepower if those Talon Company we heard about decide to attack."

The best laid plans. . .

* * *

Crazy Wolfgang sat in his half-finished stone house and shop. Night was just falling and, except for the occasional aggravated sheriff that ran past in the direction of the Station, everyone was relaxing after a hard day's work and going to sleep. Wolfgang could not mimic them.

The first few weeks had been fairly bad, with the crowded Station or the crowded shack people called a Common House to chose from. He had been forced to keep especially quiet back then. Once the front wall of stone was built up high enough to make it a substantial defensive structure Simms had cut the mandatory quarry shifts from insane, back-breaking fifteen-hour stretches each day down to manageable four hour inconveniences. With the extra time someone, Crazy thought it might have been Timebomb, he had not really noticed or cared, started using their ability to cut stone to do so for themselves and began building a stone home of their own. After that someone else started doing it too.

Seeing the potential of having a shop almost right at the top of the stairs, where everyone coming onto the Island would see it, Crazy hired two of the quarry workers who were not so ambitious as to build their own place, and between the three of them he had waist-height walls that butted up against the side of the Station closest to the stairs. It was currently topped with tin and scrap to make it liveable, but it had a roof and he called it 'home.'

He reveled in the physical progress being made, both by the private projects like his combination house and shop, the communal projects like the wall and, finally, the water filter Zoiks, Moria and Walter had managed to cobble together. Either he marveled, or he thought about the gossip he heard while working alongside his hired muscle in the quarry or at his build site. Apparently Three Dog had finally pieced it together that the Island was inhabited by the remnants of Megaton, and Cornelu had been in the news as well. That was something to think about and keep him occupied.

Crazy forced himself to constantly work, feel accomplished with that work, or otherwise be distracted by what he heard during his work, because every time his mind was given a moment to wander it always fell back on Lilith.

Oh Lilith.

The former caravan trader ran through his last moments with his love one more time, as if it would make things better. The chaos of the battle of Arefu, her stubborn refusal to jump into the thick of the fight, no matter how much she wanted to help the others, because he, Wolfgang, was hurt and she had not wanted to leave him vulnerable. Then the bright flash and the blast of heat and sound, and suddenly she was no more. When he came around moments later there were only a few scattered people around and one corpse, charred beyond recognition. Crazy had told himself it was someone else, that she had been hurt and dragged away from the front line, or had finally run farther into the battle and out of sight.

But it was her. Lilith was dead, and there was nothing he could do about it. Like every night since then, he kept his sobs subdued while he lay down and waited for morning. His new house and the security it provided gave him a bit of comfort, he hoped maybe he could get an hour or two of sleep before the sun came up. It was not likely.

* * *

Dr. James Max, first person to be dubbed 'Vault Dweller' by Three Dog, trudged through the wastes towards the only thing that might be able to put his project back on track. It was his drive now, his purpose. He needed a G.E.C.K. for his large scale water purifier project, Project Purity, the machine complex that he and his wife had devoted years to and that had lay dormant now for two decades.

There was supposed to be a G.E.C.K. located in Vault 112, his destination. He was about half a day away from it, but it was getting dark. So far he had survived the Wasteland through a bit of rational thought, caution, a 10mm pistol and a lot of luck. The first two of those things were advising him to take shelter for the night, so he did. There was a time for risk-taking. The whole venture was in itself a huge risk, setting off alone and poorly armed and armored, so there was no need to do something completely reckless, like let his haste get in the way of his safety by walking through the Wasteland at night. That kind of thing was suicide.

So he found a tiny cave in the north-facing cliff wall he was following and laid down. He could not fall asleep right away, he was worried about his son, Cornelu. James had left him in Vault 101 so he could be safe from the cruelty of the Wasteland, and the more he thought about that the more he questioned his decision. The Overseer was a radical man, to say the least. He had originally been opposed to the idea of letting him and Cornelu in two decades ago, and only the Vault's desperate need of a competent doctor had swayed him. How would he react when James sneaked off in the night? He wouldn't directly take it out on Cornelu, but it probably did help that the Overseer already had a grudge. James hoped he was doing okay.

To ease his mind a little, the Wasteland scientist turned on the radio in his Pip-Boy. Since he met Three Dog he tuned in occasionally, but mostly for the music. After a few songs played and a news segment came on he moved to turn it off, but the D.J.'s eager tone stayed his hand and he perked up to listen.

_"This is Three Dog, AHOOO! Bringing you all the music and news your little hearts can handle! Wow, kiddies, there is so much going on out there these days!_

_"First of all, the missing residents of the recently destroyed towns of Arefu, Bigtown and even some survivors of the Megaton explosion have been located. Led by none other than Megaton sheriff Lucas Simms, they have found a place to call their own. These men, women and children had to endure a horrific exodus, being pursued by raiders and lately even Talon Company mercs, but they have survived and are now the residents of the newly formed settlement called 'The Island' north of the ruins of Arefu and east of the Slaver bastion, Paradise Falls.  
_

_"Now, why am I just spouting this over the radio for any and all to hear, especially when it seems a mysterious man by the name of Burke particularly wants them dead? Because the Island isn't just a tiny, budding outpost. As I've reported before, it's already put itself on the map in regard to the trading scene. Some people have even been enticed to migrate to it. Now, come to find out, all of this is due to its remarkable physical security, located atop a rocky outcropping with a pre-war stone wall serving as it's front gate._

_"Raiders, slavers and mercs beware, this place is not to be trifled with. It's people are hard enough and well-armed enough to have survived constant attacks and even all out battles with hoards of raiders. This isn't hyperbole, people, the sites are a pre-war store on the Potomac, on the northwest fringe of D.C. and what used to be the town of Arefu. Check them out if you don't believe how badass these people are. And if that isn't enough, there is talk of a sniper constantly watching over the Island with the kind of aim that they tell legends of. Again not just talk, the Deathclaw skulls adorning his sniper nest provide all the evidence required.  
_

_"And this is where things get really interesting. You know the Vault Boy I mentioned a few weeks back? Turns out this cat was traveling with the refugees. He joined them while looking for his father, the _other_ Vault Dweller, James, that I mentioned an even longer time ago. I know, I know, I can't make this shit up!_

_"Well, once the group were safe on the hilltop now called 'the Island,' some sort of dispute breaks out between him and sheriff Lucas Simms. Suddenly there's a gunshot, and someone else winds up hurt, and when the dust settles Vault Boy and a local scavenger are kicked to the curb. What was the dispute over? My educated (and by that I mean informed) guess is that sheriff Simms has had to make some changes to keep his refugees alive as long as he has under such insanely harsh conditions, and our intrepid Vault Vagabond of the Wastes didn't like those changes. Particularly, the forcible use of his stuff without compensation. But there are rumors that Simms had the right of it because of an alleged jet addiction of Vault Boy's. Why was another scavenger thrown out, though? Who can say what's right in that situation? Not I, said the Dog.  
_

_"Anyway, with all that behind him Vault Boy, more formally known by his name, Cornelu, came to ol' Three Dog looking for information a few days ago. Didn't look like a junkie to me, but then again he was wearing a pretty conspicuous set of black, pointy-eared power armor. Regardless of his Enclave appearance, he said he was looking for his dad and I set him on the path to find his old man the best I could. James, if you are out there, know that your son is looking for you where you were headed after we last spoke."  
_

_"And now for a public service announcement. We all know the dangers of radiation, but with the right precautions. . ."_

The charismatic radio man's voice faded into the background as James stopped paying attention. His son was out in the Wasteland. Looking for him. He had been in a fight with the sheriff of Megaton, was rumored to be addicted to jet, and wore Enclave armor._  
_

Dr. James Max turned off the radio and went to sleep. He was too close to his destination to turn back now, but as soon as he had the G.E.C.K. he would return to Rivet City and find his son.


End file.
